#this is really revealing of my music taste

[dreadful-luck]

GGS TEAM PAST!!!

[reel-fear]

Honestly, every single time the whole 'poppy playtime is a bendy rip-off' stuff ever shows up I find it all extremely unconvincing and silly.

For one thing, rip-off usually is meant to imply that it's a cheap lazy copy of a better more polished thing, and uh. Sorry but even from chapter 1? Poppy Playtime is a better game than Bendy, it has a simple but understandable story, the game manages to be thrilling, creepy, and very intense at times... I mean that Huggy chase in the vents ALONE puts it way above Batim for me.

I mean BATDR had the most slow stupid chase I've ever seen [and every other encounter with the ink demon is text telling u he's there and then a timer goes down and u get jumpscared] and batim's chases were either silly or just not nearly as theatric or terrifying as that.

When making the vent sequence I mean not only is it absolutely horrifying to realize how fast Huggy is in there but also it's so theatric and cool? The fact that you round a corner after thinking you escaped only to see a terrifying animation of that thing crawling toward you is awesome! I wish Bendy had stuff like that!

And all the stuff it shares with Bendy are generic things Bendy ripped from other horror games/media anyways. I'm not saying Poppy Playtime isn't inspired by Bendy I for sure think it is but Bendy is such a generic story that somehow fails to do tropes 100 other horror games have done any comparison only makes Poppy Playtime look better.

"It has employees being sacrificed for their company" That is not a concept Bendy invented, literally look at any of the sci-fi horror series Bendy is very inspired by. This is literally a twist in the original Alien.

"It has a scary woman forcing you to do tasks for her" Once again, not a concept Bendy invented, a scary mysterious person forcing you to do fetch-quests is a concept found in tons of horror media. And at least Poppy Playtime gave you a chase with her and let you defeat her, look at poor malice. She's barely on screen for more than 10 minutes before she gets stabbed.

"It has a cult worshipping the monster" This is something tons of horror games and media have done too. I mean In The Tall Grass has a guy who worships a giant magical rock in the middle of a grass maze, Bioshock [which Bendy has only been taking more and more direct inspiration from while failing to grab any of the compelling parts] also had a lot of themes of religion and cult-ish behavior, almost every horror media franchise has at one point done a cult thing.

Bendy couldn't even come up with a reason Sammy worships the ink demon, the best motivation we've ever gotten is just that 'he's crazzyyyy the ink made him insaneeee'. Who is the cheap rip-off here?

At least Poppy Playtime gave their cultist a motive for worshipping the monster + a proper boss fight that feels intense and looks awesome! Bendy didn't even let you kill Malice [she got stabbed in front of you and then just collapsed on the floor how thrilling] meanwhile you get to kill three of the villains in Poppy Playtime and the gameplay and action in those scenes have only gotten better as the game went on.

I mean Sammy walks into a room and goes "AAA SCARY I'M BEING MURDERED" then later shows up and for NO REASON sees a normal human man and assumes it's the ink demon before once again someone else kills him for you. In Poppy Playtime you defeat Catnap as he floods the world with this horrible nightmare-inducing gas that intensifies the color palette and his design. Fight off versions of him that are illusions that you need your flare gun for, then watch in a wonderful animation as he mistakes the monster for his savior before getting killed by it, in a brutal way I might add, which game are we accusing of being cheap, lazy garbage again?

I just find this argument to be people who Really Really need to find a reason to hate Poppy Playtime which I think is silly. The devs being weird, shady people is already enough reason to dislike the game, you don't need to invent reasons why secretly every part of the game is malicious or bad. But esp when I see Bendy fans saying they don't support Poppy Playtime or dislike it bc of its devs or even saying its cringe ummmm.

I have bad news about the fact Bendy's devs are worse and it took not one, but TWO over an hour long videos to cover it all. Plus the Bendy games are just the worse games in every aspect, if I could sell my batim copy for a copy of Poppy Playtime I wouldn't hesitate at all.

Saying this as a bendy fan, we have no right to be super judgy towards Poppy Playtime. If Poppy Playtime is embarrassing cringe, Bendy is too and is way more embarrassing of an interest. We shouldn't spread misinformation just because we all want to hate Poppy Playtime, you can dislike Poppy Playtime without making up a bunch of nonsense to justify it.

Honestly seeing people just blatantly be unfairly mean to Poppy Playtime only makes its critics look worse and makes it hard to take any backlash to the games seriously. Because surprise surprise if you spread misinformation to make a point people will quickly stop listening to Anything you have to say bc they won't trust you're telling the truth anymore.

[doggogills-but-worse]

listening to this and staring at the ceiling

I am mentally unwell

[thesacrificialdove]

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 1.6k words rich yandere x gn!reader — ko-fi | patreon | masterlist | inbox | taglist | home | req. & comms

tags sugar daddy, rich yandere, low-key obsessive behaviour, first meetings, college student reader, age gap, brief mention of a rapist (no description or anything more)

—📜" Being a broke college student, you decide to try your hand at getting a sugar daddy. You find someone who is... quite eager to know everything about you. It's weird because he doesn't seem to be the same person he was online.

They say to spend your youth on nightclubs and partying with friends. But really, they don’t know the true beauty of being in a jazz club and drinking all by yourself. There’s no ill intentions, there’s no partying until the sun goes down—just some nice music and good drinks.

People find it odd, sure. But nothing can beat this feeling for you. As you lay in a couch that’s worth double your college tuition, you drink champagne that's triple your college tuition. 

How you ended up here is another embarrassing story. Hunting for a sugar daddy online is a clear plan for destruction. It could end well with a decent allowance every now and then, of course. Yet, fear gets the most of you. The thought that you end up with a fat well and alive man who asks for sex with his small dick looms over you like a gloomy cloud. That fear is there because your sugar daddy is anonymous.

Sighing, you drink another sip of the champagne as you fix your posture. Again. The seat in front of you is still empty. You’d think he wasn’t really being honest with you but he did have a reservation ready for the both of you.

It’s not bad to wait. Even if you do look dumb getting stood up, at least you’re enjoying yourself.

“You lonely there?” someone asks behind you.

Turning your head behind you, you see a towering man with a smile so bright you think you could be blinded by it. He looks elegant—the way he’s holding a glass like a connoisseur and his long black hair pulled into a slick ponytail. Fuck, is he your sugar daddy? He looks the age for it and honestly, he aged really good.

You tell him, “Maybe. Are you lonely?”

He chuckles and takes the seat opposite. Finally. “No,” he says, “not anymore, at least. All thanks to…?” he gestures to you.

When you tell him his name, he parrots it like he’s tasting it. “Beautiful. Your mother picked it out?”

“I’m sure so,” you don’t know, who the hell would know that? “It’s a generational name, really. In our family we keep reusing names.”

“So are you the second? The third?”

The third was your great grandfather but he ended up being a rapist. Eugh. “The fourth,” you answer. “But I never tell anyone that, actually. Bit embarrassing if they call me the fourth, so.”

He laughs, somehow finding you amusing. “Nicolas,” he says, “very nice to meet you.”

Was… his name Nicolas? You’re not so sure about that. From the site he only revealed his last name so that you could get the reservation. Huh.

“Nice to meet you, Nicolas.” The little twitch in his lips is unavoidable to your eyes, “You look very nice tonight,” maybe that’s why he took almost an hour to arrive here. “Do you live near here or?”

“Oh, no,” he shakes his head, “I come from Bolzano. But I came here from Portofino, where my heart currently is.”

You nod like you know where those places really are. Italy, you assume. “Very nice. I heard it’s a beautiful place.”

“Beatiful even more with company,” he puts his drink down. “How about you? What makes you come here?”

You, actually. You wanted to go here. “I was raised by my grandfather and jazz was his favourite. Every corner of the house Hank Mobley would be playing. I have his old records that he passed down to me and whenever I play it, I can see the way he dances.”

“So, come down here for a little trip to memory lane?”

Before you could answer, you think about it even more. The man you were talking was definitely not Italian, right? No, his name sounded British, at most. And Nicolas sounds like he has little to no knowledge about the fact that you two are supposedly on a date.

Fuck, did you get him wrong? I mean, he is interested, you think.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you hum. You put your glass down too, clasping your hands. “I think I do need to go now. It was nice to have your company—”

“Going so soon? A bit rude especially if you came here to be mine for a price, no?”

You pause. Though you’re ready to leave this embarrassing meeting, you’re caught. You turn to him in confusion. So you were… wrong? Right? 

“Sit back down, this champagne is a bit too new to me.” He raises a hand and someone immediately finds their footing beside him. Nicolas speaks in his own tongue, requesting something you don’t understand.

You’re promptly back on your seat with a small wave of his hand. “Come on, I think we have a lot to learn about each other. But I know you.”

Did he send in a private investigator or what? Fuck, man. You didn’t think that those things were real in real life. “How much do you know?”

He doesn’t answer. His legs are crossed as he watches the busboy leave to prepare your drinks. “How are your classes?” he asks, making idle conversation of things you’re a bit worried to talk to him about. “Hope you’re dealing well.”

“Yeah,” you say, unsure of this now. “It’s all fine, yes. Just a few projects and classes.” You wonder for a moment how rude it would be to ask for a price on your body right now. “Nothing interesting, really.”

“I’m sure anything you say is of interest,” he says, all too fond of you. “Tell me, love, you mentioned having difficulties with some of your professors.”

He wasn’t interested in all that before when you were talking. “It’s fine. Well, not like I can say no. It’s a bit hard when you’re paying for an education and you’re not being taught,” you laugh, “Self-taught learning, he excuses.”

“That’s simply lazy,” he excuses. “Fine arts is such a nice career path. No reason to be dismissive of students who want to learn it.”

Did you tell him what you’re studying?

The busboy returns and brings a drink to the both of you. The song changes and it sounds familiar. You could almost see your grandfather dance behind Nicolas.

“I’m going to guess that’s your doing,” you say, “Thank you. It sounds lovely.”

He smiles, “I’m not one for jazz myself.” He reaches for his glass and swirls in, taking a whiff of its scent afterward. “But I’m curious as to who you are. How you grew up is one of those things”

When the both of you talked online, you expected him to be more lustful than this. Maybe it’s the repeating innuendo in his messages. All of that persona is gone now as if it never existed. It’s concerning.

Both of you make small conversation. Mostly it’s about you. He asks every little detail about you, asking for things that not even your friends would care about. It’s the little things.

‘Do you like soft cotton or silk?’ You don’t really know the difference but cotton is nice.

‘How often do you see your family?’ Every or so month, you’d wager. But you make sure to keep in contact.

‘What’s your thoughts on caged animals?’ A bit cruel, but you can see where it can stem from. Still, it’s cruel. You’d never do it.

The night come to a close when you start to feel a bit light-headed with the drinks you’ve ingested. Nicolas puts aside your glass as he stands to go on your side of the table. “Maybe it’s time to take a break tonight, love?”

You groan. “Yeah, I guess that’s fine now. I’m really thankful for tonight.”

“I’m glad,” he says, pulling you up and helping you walk. You don’t need it but it’s nice anyways. “I can take you back to your dorm, yes? You don’t need to worry about anything else when you’re with me.”

In your pocket, your phone buzzes. You don’t get to check it when Nicolas wraps both of his arms around your waist. He pulls you to the exit and you swear you hear ‘Signore Giordano’ come out when the men bid him goodnight.

Which is weird, because his surname is Abbot.

The ride was a blur, literally. Maybe you’ve had too much to drink. The next thing you know is that both of you are in front of your dorm. It’s too dark outside. The streets are dead silent. The low rumble of his car is the only thing you can really hear.

He calls your name. “It’s time to go home. You can’t stay with me yet, love.”

You stretch in the seat. A car seat has never been more comfortable. “Been nice, really. Thank you.”

As you unbuckle your seat, he leans forward. His arm drapes over your shoulders as his hand comes to your face. “Then can I get a little reward? Just a little?” He turns his cheek, a grin on his face.

It’s stupid but oh well, he would pay you. You press a kiss on his cheek and he looks like the happiest man alive. He laughs, looking at you with stupid heart eyes. “Thank you. Call me with this number—” he places a card in your hands—”and delete that damn app. I’ll come find you after your classes tomorrow for your contract. You don’t need to find anyone else now.”

He leaves shortly after you get inside your dorm. You hear the revving of his car go in the quiet night. It’s relieving. You’re tired on your feet, unable to really process what happened tonight.

It’s whatever. It’s all done now.

You delete the app on your phone, swiping away a message you got from it. You’re pretty sure it’s from another match you had last time but again, you don’t need it anymore.

do not redistrubute this work as yours/without permission or feed to AI 📷 art by @ L0tus_Ren_ & @ Ivan Belikov

[flameswallower]

I think the way this comic handles revealing its characters' pre-transition names and appearances in flashback is so good. Like, yes it is respectful and completely inverts the unfortunate implication sometimes present in trans narratives by cis people that the pre-transition person is the "original" or "real" version of the person, but also Max's sense for what different types of trans people present like when they're eggs or closeted is invariably spot-on and pretty funny.

new what happens next update

check it out!

[theostrophywife]

poison paradise.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: toxic by omido.

author's note: smutty unhinged theo won the poll. here’s your silly little treat. this came to me in a dream proving that even my subconscious isn't safe from theodore. this is pure filth, but ya'll already know that that's what i do best 🤪

The taste of cherry chapstick lingered on your tongue as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Lost in euphoria, you cried out just as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, dragging you to the depths of sensual self-indulgence. 

Back arching off the bed. Fingers gripping the sheets. Moans echoing off the walls. 

This was hedonism at its finest. 

The heady scent of sweat, skin, and sex permeated in the air long after your orgasm passed, inducing you into a foggy haze as you scrambled to anchor yourself back to the present. Between your legs, your girlfriend lifted her head up with a pleased smirk and pressed a chaste kiss against your lips. 

The kiss tasted like cum and cherries, a sweet and intoxicating combination that sent your head spinning. Hannah hummed, her pretty doe eyes focused on you while your own fluttered open. 

“Babe, I’ve really got to get to practice now,” she whispered softly. “I’m late enough as it is.” 

You chuckled, twirling a strand of her red hair between your fingers. “Whose fault is that? You’re the one who dragged me in here, love.” 

Hannah grinned sheepishly as she pulled your red and gold skirt down. “Can you blame me? I can’t control myself when you’re strutting about in your cheer uniform.” 

“Then go out there and give me something to cheer about, babe. I expect a win against Slytherin tomorrow.” 

“If Potter doesn’t kill me first for being late,” she said with a final kiss to your cheek. “See you after practice?”

You nodded as you tossed her jersey over. “I’ll be here.” 

After taking a much needed shower, you sat in front of the vanity and blasted music as you diligently adhered to your skincare routine. The best thing about having a girlfriend was that you shared everything. Since dating Hannah, your makeup, clothes, and shoe options doubled overnight. 

As you combed through your hair, a sudden knock at the door caught your attention. You figured it was just a courtesy from Hannah’s roommate. Merlin knows that the poor witch had walked in on you and your girlfriend in countless compromising positions. 

Tightening the scarlet robe around your waist, you sauntered over to the door, fully expecting Emma to greet you from the other side. Instead, a looming figure eclipsed the doorway. You were surprised to find none other than Theodore Nott staring back at you. 

While you two weren’t exactly the best of friends given the rivalry between your houses, you and Theo were civil. You sat beside each other in Herbology and occasionally shared a laugh every time you caught him muttering sarcastic remarks under his breath about the ridiculous bloody plants that Professor Sprout had you wrangling during class. 

“Well, what do we have here?” you teased, cocking your head at the dead eyed Slytherin. “A serpent in the lion’s den? What brings you behind enemy lines, Theo?”  

Theo smiled back in response, shuffling a bit and allowing a glimpse of the wine bottle and bouquet of roses cradled in his arms. “Waiting for my girlfriend to leave so I can set this up for our anniversary.” 

You grinned. “Oh, how romantic!” You had always been a sucker for cheesy gestures. It was the hopeless romantic in you.  “Come in, then.” 

To his credit, Theo kept his eyes firmly on your face as you ushered him inside the room. Taking the hint, you quickly excused yourself to the bathroom and changed into something a little less revealing than your silk robe. When you came out, Theo was sprinkling rose petals on the bed. 

“Those are gorgeous,” you fawned over the flowers. “You’re definitely getting laid tonight.” 

Theo smirked in response as he set the vintage wine bottle into a fancy crystal ice bucket. “That’s the plan.” 

Slipping into your fuzzy slippers, you cocked your head at the arrangement. “Wait. I think you set it up on the wrong side. Emma’s bed is over there.” 

Theo nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know. This is for Hannah.” 

Whatever warm, fuzzy feeling his sweet gesture invoked suddenly soured at the mention of your girlfriend’s name. “What do you mean it’s for Hannah?” 

“Hannah,” Theo repeated slowly. “As in, my girlfriend, Hannah.” 

The words hit you like the Hogwarts Express. Surely, Theo was mistaken. He had to be. That was the only explanation. “This can’t be right. I’m sure I heard you wrong. You can’t be dating Hannah.” 

The confusion in your face was mirrored in Theo’s features. “And why is that?” 

“Because I’m dating Hannah.” 

Theo stared at you. You stared back. The room fell silent as the declaration hung heavy in the air. 

“Wait,” he backtracked, furrowing his brows. “What? That’s not possible.” 

“We’ve been dating since term started.” 

“We’ve been dating since summer,” Theo countered. Disbelief dawned over his handsome features. “This is for our three month anniversary.” 

Desperate to make sense of the situation, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through your photo album. It didn’t take long to find a recent picture of you and Hannah. “See?” you said, pointing at the screen. “This is us sharing a hot fudge sundae in Hogsmeade just last weekend.” 

Theo’s mouth gaped open as he pulled out his phone in response, scrolling through his pictures just as you had done moments ago. “This is us swimming in the lake last July.” 

The photo of your girlfriend smiling up at the camera while Theo’s arms wrapped around her bikini clad body made your stomach plummet. The confirmation left a bitter taste on your tongue. There was no reason for Theo to be making this up, which left only one possible conclusion. Hannah was dating both of you. At the same time. 

You pursed your lips. “Hannah played us both.” 

Theo looked about as dejected as you felt. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it,” he muttered to himself. 

“All that tension between you during the quidditch match,” you recalled. The lingering looks that Hannah and Theo shared during last month’s scrimmage flashed before your very eyes. In hindsight, it was obvious that there was more to it than rivalry. 

“You know, I think I saw her kiss you on the cheek in the halls once, but she said that the two of you were just really close.” 

“Oh, we are,” you said rather bitterly. “She’s kissed a lot more than my cheeks. Gods, how could I have been so stupid?” 

“You’re not stupid,” Theo said softly. “How could we have known? Outside of Herbology, the two of us don’t really interact. We’re in different houses and our social circles rarely overlap. If you think about it, it’s actually the perfect plan.” 

“Yes, bravo to our girlfriend for being the cleverest fucking liar in the castle.” You winced at the title. "Correction, ex-girlfriend."

Nott nodded in agreement. "Definitely ex-girlfriend."

"What a bloody mess."

Theo rubbed his temples. “Well, fuck.” The sentiment of total and utter confusion was one you knew all too well. “I am way too sober for this.” 

Without a word, he swiped the bottle of wine from the crystal bucket and popped it open. You stared at him with slight bewilderment, which he responded to with a nonchalant shrug. “What? It’s not like I’m going to drink this with Hannah now after I found out that she’s been lying to me for three whole months.” 

While Theo was taking the perfectly understandable approach of getting absolutely pissed off his arse, you weren’t willing to take the hit so easily. You were angry. Correction, you were fucking livid. Seething in the heat of your fury, you snatched the wine bottle from Theo’s grasp and chugged a good amount. 

“That’s a vintage from my family’s vineyard. You’re supposed to sip slowly to really appreciate the flavor—“ Theo grimaced as you leveled him with a glare. “Or drown yourself in it. That’s fine, too.” 

You swayed on your feet as you gestured dramatically. “I can’t believe she cheated on me!” 

Who the fuck did Hannah think she was? You didn’t need this bullshit. She was the one who chased after you. Before she pursued you, you were perfectly fine ruling this school under your thumb, flashing pretty smiles and innocent doe eyed looks to the unsuspecting masses. You were head cheerleader, for fuck’s sake! You could’ve had your pick of boys and girls in this whole bloody castle. Even worse, Hannah dragged Theo into this too. While the Slytherins certainly had a reputation, he seemed sweet if not a little sardonic and cynical at times.

”I can’t believe she cheated on you.” You added, surveying the now tainted roses and wine. Indignation weighed heavily on every word. You and Theo were both hot as fuck and a complete catch. Neither of you deserved this. “We can’t let her get away with this.” 

Theo sighed in response, taking the bottle from you and drinking a decent amount before wiping his wine stained lips with the back of his hand. “If I’m being honest, this isn’t the first time a relationship has imploded on me. Usually, it’s my fault. But I can’t say I’ve ever gotten cheated on. My ego’s taken a little bit of a blow, but what can we do? She fooled us both.” 

“What can we do?” You repeated incredulously. “Obviously, you haven’t dealt with a Gryffindor’s wrath before. This is a matter of pride, Theo. She hit us where it hurts the most. I say we hit her back.” 

Theo blanched, his watercolor eyes glazed from the alcohol. The wine was no joke. You never would’ve known it from the smooth taste, but this shit was strong. “As upset as I am, I hardly think violence is the answer. My mum told me to never raise a hand against a lady and I don’t intend on breaking that promise. No matter how angry I may be.” 

For the first time in that fucked up night, you managed a laugh. Something about that was so endearing to you. “Relax, Nott. I don’t mean we hurt her physically. That’s not really my style. I have a much more effective way to enact revenge.” Your lips curled into a smile as Theo hung onto every word. “We’re going to wage psychological warfare on our ex-girlfriend, Theo.” 

“I’ll confess I’m a little bit scared,” Theo declared as he gulped down the last of the wine. “And a little bit turned on. Guess that says a lot about me, huh?” 

You smirked as you retrieved the wine bottle and gingerly set it on the nightstand. Theo glanced up at you curiously, anticipation evident on his handsome face. “What exactly is the plan, dolcezza?” 

Whether it was the alcohol or your anger, a devious plan started forming as you looked over your ex-girlfriend’s now ex-boyfriend. “Hannah comes back from practice in an hour,” you stated, toying with the neck of the bottle. “She’s expecting to find me in bed waiting for her.” 

Mischief danced in Theo’s eyes. Up close, you could see flecks of green swimming in his blue irises. Those mesmerizing eyes—the very same ones that had the entire castle weak in the knees—locked on yours. Now that you were single through no fault of your own, you had no reason not to ogle Theo and ogle you did. Your gaze flickered over his lean physique, examining his solid chest and broad shoulders before snagging on the sliver of skin that revealed the hard abdominal muscles beneath his light grey shirt as he stretched. A cocky smirk graced his handsome face when he caught you looking.

Merlin, he was fucking pretty. 

How had you not noticed that before? Oh, right. You were too busy being a good girlfriend. Well, fuck that. 

“Oh?” He murmured, his gaze flickering over you. 

Though you changed into a baggy shirt and cotton shorts, you might as well have been naked with the way Theo was looking at you. His dead eyed stare burned holes into your skin and a shiver crawled up your spine as he gravitated closer. 

“And she will,” you said with a smirk, closing the gap between you. “You’ll just be in it with me.” 

“Oh,” Theo hummed salaciously. 

“Wouldn’t wanna waste those pretty roses you got, do we?” 

The low rasp of your voice seemed to entrance Theo as he shook his head, appearing dazed as you pulled him in by the front of his shirt. “No, no at all. We should…” The nervous bob of his Adam’s apple sent a thrill through your body. “We should definitely make use of them.” 

With a grin, you led him towards the bed. Theo walked backwards, his eyes never leaving yours even as he landed on the mattress. The golden glow of the lamp kissed his sharp cheekbones, its warm hue coloring the slope of his nose, which were smattered with moles and freckles, before emphasizing his wine stained lips. The red roses fluttered around him as the bed dipped, soft petals tickling his skin as he settled against the headboard.

Theo felt like he was under a spell as you crawled over him. He couldn’t tell whether he was dizzy from the wine or if it was just the effect you had on him, but either way, he wasn’t complaining. There were worse things to suffer from than a pretty witch straddling his lap. 

Instinctively, Theo gripped your waist while you settled over him. The sight of you leaning over him, your face mere inches away from his felt like a fever dream. One that he had no desire of waking up from. 

“I thought you liked girls,” Theo whispered softly as your lips brushed over his. Teasing, taunting, tasting. Fuck, what he would give to have you devour him whole. 

“I do,” you replied, tickling his cheek with a rose petal. Theo shivered as the low rasp of your voice pulled him in. “But I like boys too. Especially pretty ones like you.” 

Theo couldn’t help but blush. Obviously, he was aware that he was attractive, but he’d never been called pretty before. He was surprised to find that he really fucking liked it. 

“Don’t flatter me, dolcezza. Not unless you plan on following through.”

“I’ve never been with a Slytherin before,” you whispered huskily. “Tell me, Theo. Will you sink your teeth into me tonight?”

A part of him pondered the slightly fucked up situation that Theo managed to get himself into tonight. Was he really about to fuck his ex-girlfriend’s ex-girlfriend in her own bed? Yes. Did he feel an ounce of guilt over what he was about to do? No. 

Honestly, fuck Hannah. But more importantly, Theo needed to focus on fucking you. 

“Fuck yes.”

When you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, it was over. There wasn’t a single trace of self control in him as he kissed back, his mouth hot and eager against yours. The infamous Gryffindor boldness didn’t disappoint as you moaned into his mouth, your fingers threading through his silky brown waves before tugging in a way that made Theo weak in the knees. As he parted your lips with his tongue, you grinded against him and laughed seductively when he whimpered in response. 

“Yeah?” you purred as you rolled your hips. “You like that, pretty boy?” 

“Bloody fucking hell,” Theo groaned before he kissed you again, rougher this time. 

There was something satisfying about the way he grabbed you, his big hands guiding you to grind over him, providing a delicious friction between your clothed sex. Theo was hard and throbbing underneath you. By the feel of him, you knew you were in for a ride. The sheer size of him was going to absolutely destroy you. 

You pulled away and a glistening trail of spit extended between you as a result of your sloppy make out. Theo panted as you tugged at the hem of his shirt, keeping your eyes trained on him while you licked a path down his abdomen. He watched hungrily as you grazed your teeth over his hard muscles, flicking your tongue expertly while he shuddered underneath you. 

“I can see why Hannah went for you,” you hummed against his tan skin. “You’re hot as fuck. Your abs are unreal and your happy trail,” Theo groaned as you pressed soft kisses along his torso. “It leads to something delicious, doesn’t it?” 

“Fuck, bella. You’re killing me,” Theo groaned as he fisted your hair in one hand. The whimper that slipped past his lips as you palmed his cock was utterly shameless. “You’ve got a filthy fucking mouth, Y/N.” 

“Yeah? Shut me up, then.” 

His head lolled back against the headboard as you released his cock from his boxers, stroking purposefully and savoring the filthy moans that echoed against the walls. Those pretty eyes of his were nearly black with lust as he looked down at you, biting his lip while your tongue swirled over the head of his cock. Licking up his precum, you smirked before fully wrapping your lips around him. 

Theo tugged at your hair and bucked against your mouth as you sucked, licked, and pumped every inch of his thick, hard cock. You knew you were good, but the desperation in Theo’s voice all but confirmed it. 

“Dio mio, right there. Fuck, you’re perfect. Your throat was made to be fucked. You can take it, bella. Choke on my cock, just like that.”

You gagged as he hit the back of your throat. Sucking dick had never been your favorite, but sucking Theo’s dick was something else. He looked so pretty with his waves plastered to his forehead, rosy cheeks flushed as he fucked your face with a dominance that had you growing wetter by the second. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you choked on his cock, but it was worth every second to hear Theo moan your name. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” hissed Theo after a particularly rough thrust. You could tell he was close by the way his body seized underneath you, but you weren’t done with him yet. You wanted more and so did he. “So fucking close, but I don’t want to come yet. I need…Fuck, I need more.” 

You released him with a pop, but kept stroking him with your right hand. “Use your words, pretty boy.” 

“I want to feel you,” Theo whined. “I need to feel your pussy clenching around my cock, principessa. I need you so fucking bad. I’d get on my knees to be inside of you. Please.” 

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” you said as you kissed his temple. “Who am I to refuse?” 

Theo watched as you shuffled above him, barely breathing as you slipped out of your clothes. When you threw your shirt off, Theo cursed to find you completely bare before him. He cupped your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples before wrapping his lips around them. You could tell he was eager to please and that alone was a huge fucking turn on. It was rare to find a man who cared about pleasure beyond his own, which is why you usually preferred women. Theodore Nott seemed to be the exception. 

With rapt attention, Theo helped you lower down onto his length. He kept his eyes on you as you adjusted, gasping when your walls stretched to accommodate his size. 

“You know, I thought the rumors about you were exaggerated,” you groaned as you sank lower. “But I’ve never been so glad to be wrong.” 

Theo smirked as he nibbled at your earlobe. “What kind of rumors, dolcezza?” 

“That you had a huge dick,” you responded, sounding slightly winded once Theo was finally fully sheathed inside of you. “And that you fuck like a—“ You moaned when Theo shifted his hips to rut into you. He was so big that the minuscule movement felt like you were being split apart. 

“That I fuck like what, bella?” 

Never one to be outdone, you tugged at his hair and grinded against him. “That you fuck like an absolute demon.” 

“Yeah?” He drawled, sliding in and out of you with a cocky smirk. “Well, you’re no angel either, Y/N.” 

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Theo.” 

The sight of you bouncing on his cock and riding the fuck out of him was almost too much. Theo was mesmerized as you used him to get off, head thrown back as you placed your hands on either side of his legs before bending in an angle that he wasn’t even sure was possible for a human to contort to. 

Damn, he should’ve fucked a cheerleader sooner. He should’ve fucked you sooner. 

“I guess you’re not the only one who listened to the rumors. They said you were flexible, but goddamn, this is something else. You’re something else, Y/N.” 

“Oh fuck, Theo,” you keened as you gripped the sheets. “You’re so big. It feels so fucking good, baby.” 

“I like the way you moan my name,” he said. “Gods, I could’ve had this all along. Why was I even wasting my time with Hannah? Sei una fottuta dea.” 

“I have no idea what you just said,'' you panted, picking up the pace. Your legs ached from the effort, but it felt too good to stop. “But I’m soaked now.” 

“I said,” Theo grunted as he fucked up into you and tugged your hair back. “You’re a fucking goddess, Y/N.” 

When he rubbed circles on your clit, you absolutely lost it. The room spiraled around you as you came hard, creaming Theo from tip to base. He pulled out suddenly, making you whine at the loss of contact until he replaced his cock with his mouth. Theo flattened his tongue, licking up along your soaked folds. His nose brushed against your already sensitive clit and you cried out as he lapped you up like a man starved. 

“Can’t take anymore,” you whined, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as you pushed against Theo’s broad shoulders. “It’s too much. I’m so sensitive.” 

Theo gripped your ankles and spread your legs wider. “Where’s that Gryffindor bravery, bella?” He chuckled, tracing circles on the inside of your thighs. His mouth glistened with your cum and rose petals stuck to his skin as he looked up at you. “Surely you can take more. We barely just started. I want you drenched in tears. Shaking, crying, and moaning my name. Right now, you’re not even close.” 

He sucked on your clit and you swore to Godric your eyes rolled back so hard that you saw heaven. Theo was determined to drive you to the brink of insanity. “I know you want it, baby. Let me make you feel good.” 

“Oh gods,” you cried out as he filled you with two fingers. It wasn’t as much of a stretch as his cock, but the way he curled them inside of you, touching that sensitive spongy spot within your walls made you whimper all the same. “Fuck, yes, gods. I want it. I want you, Theo.” 

A satisfied smile graced his handsome face before Theo flipped you over, pressing you headfirst into the pillows as he feasted on your pussy from behind. There wasn’t a single thought in your head as he unraveled you with his tongue and fingers. It was a deadly combination that had you on the edge quicker than you thought possible. 

“Turn around, principessa,” Theo cooed. “Come ride my face.” 

For Godric’s fucking sake. The man was absolutely insatiable. You liked to think that you had excellent stamina. Most of the time your partners struggled to keep up with your pace, but Theo was seriously challenging that. You didn’t know if you could come three times in a row without passing out, but tonight was as good as any to find out. 

Theo rewarded you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss before positioning your thighs on either side of his head. You held onto the headboard above him. Part of it was for balance, but mostly to keep yourself from collapsing all together. You felt so overstimulated that the line between pleasure and pain was blurring by the minute, but still, neither one of you had any plans of stopping. 

At this point, you actually couldn’t give less of a fuck about revenge. Hannah had long become a thing of the past. It seemed ironic that you and your ex-girlfriend were in this exact position mere hours ago yet you couldn’t even recall anything past the Slytherin fucking you with his tongue. 

“Theo, oh my fucking gods,” you cried out as you grinded against his mouth. “Right there. Yes, that’s it. So good.” Theo squeezed your thighs in response, which elicited a hoarse laugh out of you. “You like when I praise you, pretty boy?” 

Theo hummed against your clit and squeezed your ass in confirmation. “You’re so pretty when you’re eating my pussy,” you cooed, brushing his wavy locks back. “But you’re even prettier when you’re fucking me.” 

That seemed to be all the encouragement Theo needed. Before you knew it, your back was against the mattress as he hiked your legs over your shoulder. Theo slipped in easily, thanks to the juices coating both his tongue and cock now that he was filling you up again. 

“How’s the view now, principessa?” Theo asked with a cocky smirk. 

You bit your lip as he pounded into you, holding your gaze with every sharp thrust. His tanned skin glistened with sweat and his muscles flexed while he buried himself inside of you again and again, watching you take all of him with rapt attention. His balls slapped against your ass every time his hips snapped to yours, drilling so deep that you struggled for words.

“The best in the castle,” you quipped back, putting on a serene smile as Theo grunted and fucked any and every coherent thought right out of you. 

Neither one of you noticed the door opening nor the sound of the broom hitting the floor. You were too busy staring into Theo’s pretty eyes to care. 

He turned your head towards the door, but didn’t stop fucking you as Hannah watched with her mouth hung wide open. Theo made sure that your ex-girlfriend had a clear view of the money shot as he claimed you with his mouth, moaning your name against your lips as he came with a loud cry. He filled you to the brim and you could feel him leaking out of you and onto the sheets as your eyes rolled back.

Theo collapsed on top of you, sweaty and sinful. As you lay boneless and blissed out of your mind, you couldn’t quite believe that you’d just fucked your ex-girlfriend’s ex boyfriend. In her own bed, nonetheless. If that wasn’t poetic justice, you didn’t know what was. Merlin, you hadn’t gotten shagged like that in—well, ever. The Slytherin really knew how to slither in. You lifted your head to find Theo already looking at you. When you made eye contact, the two of you burst into laughter.

Your ex-girlfriend, on the other hand, was not as amused. “What the fuck!” Hannah screamed. 

Her shrill voice brought you out of the post haze aftermath of your earth shattering orgasm. Completely unbothered, you stretched lazily and waved your fingers at Hannah. Theo smirked as he tugged his sweatpants back on, but opted to remain shirtless as he pulled his oversized shirt over your head like a proper gentleman. You were grateful, since you had absolutely no desire to walk around in your ex-girlfriend’s clothes. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Theo looked absolutely delicious from the afterglow.

You bit your lip, already thinking of all the ways you’d like to have him. Again and again. As often as possible.

With a little smile, you met Theo’s gaze. It was clear that neither of you had any intention of calling it an early night. You had a feeling that you had a lot of sleepless nights ahead of you. Theo looked like he wanted to tear you apart and you were more than willing to let him. “My dorm?” 

“Whatever you say, dolcezza,” Theo said as he slipped his fingers through yours. “You could lead me off the astronomy tower and I’d follow.” 

Theo didn’t bother looking at Hannah as the two of you passed her. You, on the other hand, couldn’t pass up the chance to get the last word in. 

“By the way, we’re breaking up with you. Have fun cleaning up the mess.” 

Theo chuckled darkly as he tugged you out into the hallway, smacking your arse as the two of you raced back to your dorm. Behind you, your long forgotten ex-girlfriend gaped as she watched her ex-girlfriend and ex-boyfriend walk away hand in hand.

[azrielsrealmate]

if I don’t put my hands over you right now…

azriel x reader

summary: your night in Rita’s was supposed to end with Azriel between your legs, not Azriel beating up your abusive ex.

warnings: suggestiveness, fight, blood, injuries, dark themes if you squint, SLIGHT trauma from an abusive relationship.

word count: 2.7k

Yk when at the High Lords meetings Azriel just snaps when Eris speaks about Mor..? Yeah, I liked that scene way too much. So here this is😸

Rita’s is packed, the heat radiating from every dancing body, the rhythm of the music pulsing through the floor and vibrating in your bones. You've spent nearly half an hour letting yourself go to the rhythm, your hips swaying in time, your eyes half-closed as Mor laughs and pulls you closer to the crowd. You're intoxicated, not just by the liquor you've consumed, but by the power you feel in being so aware of your body, so heated and alive in this dress that hugs you tightly and leaves so little to the imagination.

You spent hours getting ready. Three hours in the bathroom, meticulously shaving, slathering yourself with coconut creams until your skin was soft and fragrant, every detail of you arranged with almost cruel precision. And while part of you did it just to look good, to feel pretty, you know there’s something more. A deeper desire, the real reason you spent three hours locked away like a maniac.

The reason hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he first saw you that night. Azriel. It's always been Azriel.

The push and pull between you two has been constant, furtive glances and subtle touches, half-spoken words and smiles that hide more than they reveal.

You know he’s watching you, you feel it even when you’re not looking, a sensation that burns the back of your neck, and anticipation grows with every passing moment, tingling under your skin. A pang in your gut—intuition, they call it—you think something is going to happen. Naively, you think it might be good, really good, a reward for those three hours in the bathroom pampering yourself.

The music shifts to a slower, deeper rhythm, and the heat in the room seems to intensify. And you really can’t take it anymore, your breath is quick and shallow, and you hate the thought of breathing in the scent of sweat from constantly moving bodies, so you decide it’s time for a break, for a cold drink to refresh you.

You pull away from Mor with a smile and head to the bar, enjoying the slight coolness that the nonexistent breeze offers. At least there aren't people blocking everything in your view anymore.

Just as you're about to order your drink, you feel it. That familiar scent of cedar and mist, an aroma that always makes you turn your head, that wraps you in a feeling of safety, of desire, and something darker. Your heart beats faster with it, urging you to be afraid, but you're smarter than that. And then, the hands. Firm, confident, and so large on your hips that you fantasize about what they could do to you, they settle on your hips and pull you back against a hard, unyielding chest.

Though his chest isn’t the only thing that’s incredibly hard.

You laugh softly, knowing who it is without even having to look. You can feel the strength in him, the tension built up in the way he pulls you so desperately against him. He’s so close, and he leans down so that his mouth is right by your ear, and when he speaks, his voice is a low growl that wraps around every inch of your skin, making you exhale, your skin prickling. You press your thighs together.

“If I don’t put my hands on you right now, I’m going to put them around the neck of every man looking at you.”

The whole world seems to stop for a second. Your breath catches, and the pulse in your throat pounds. You knew there would be consequences tonight, but the reality of it hits you like a punch. Azriel, always controlled, always restrained, is on the edge, and the idea of that control breaking… is intoxicating. You smell it, so thick you can taste it, musky. God, you’d give anything to have it on your tongue for real.

“You don’t have to be so dramatic,” you murmur, but your voice trembles, betraying you. Because deep down, you like it. You like that he’s so close, that he’s so vulnerable with you, that he feels something so fierce that it drives him to act. Your words seem to only provoke him further because the grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress.

“Dramatic doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he whispers against your ear, his warm breath trailing over your skin. “You… have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

The trembling inside you turns into a wave, and you can barely contain it. It’s an effort not to roll your eyes in pure pleasure, not to rub your thighs together to get some friction.

“And what are you going to do about it?” you whisper, challenging him. Although to you, it’s not a challenge, it’s an offering. So full of need that you have to mask it.

Azriel doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turns you, gently but firmly, until you’re face to face with him. His eyes, as dark as the night itself, are lit with a mix of emotions that make you tremble. Slowly, his gaze lowers to your dress, the slight leopard lace that gathers at the top, just enough to give him a tantalizing view of the skin you so carefully prepared.

“This dress…” he murmurs, his voice deep and laden with meaning. “It’s on purpose. You knew what it would do, what it would do to me.” His hand moves up, slowly, from your hip to the small portion of bare skin on your shoulder, brushing it with a tenderness that contrasts with the fire in his eyes. “If you wore it for me, then I have the right to take it off you.”

Your lips part, words trapped in your throat as you try to process the intensity of what he’s saying. But before you can respond, his mouth is on yours, stealing your breath, demanding more than you thought you were willing to give.

The kiss is hard, fierce. His tongue claims your mouth as his own, exploring and savoring; you barely have time to keep up with him.

His hands roam over your body, exploring the skin you’ve prepared for him, and you cling to his shoulders because your knees are trembling. It’s as if the world around you disappears, leaving only Azriel, his mouth on yours, his body firm against yours, and the fire that heats your skin and spreads to his.

When he finally pulls away, you’re both panting, and he looks at you as if he can’t decide whether he wants to kiss you again or carry you out of Rita’s right then and there.

“Let’s go,” he says, his voice more of an order than a request, and although his tone is firm, there’s a plea in his eyes. A need that mirrors your own. And it’s completely overwhelming, you can only nod. And your legs move when your mind is still dazed from the kiss, his hand on your waist as if he can sense that.

Azriel comes to a sudden stop, just before you can cross the threshold of Rita’s, when a cold, venom-laden voice rises above the club's noise.

“Already got another man?”

Your heart stops for an instant, the heat of euphoria fading as you recognize the figure approaching. Tall, dark-haired, and gray-eyed, who used to look at you with something you believed was love, but now only shows resentment. Your face hardens at the sight of your ex, and a familiar tension settles in your chest, a reminder of the scars you still carry.

Azriel notices immediately. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin possessively. You can feel the tension in him, the way his body prepares to act, to protect you. Azriel’s shadows, always lurking, slip across the floor between you like snakes, dark and threatening until one of them coils around your shoulders.

“We broke up over a year ago, get over it,” you say, your voice tense but firm, maintaining your composure despite the turmoil inside you. You have no intention of giving him the satisfaction of seeing how much his presence affects you, how much Azriel’s grip on your waist is doing for you.

But he laughs, a bitter, hollow sound that makes your stomach churn. He takes a threatening step toward you, and though your body wants to retreat, you stand firm. You know this game. You know he’ll drink and get drunk on the slight fear in your eyes, he’ll go crazy if you back away, he’ll think he has more power than he does, so you force yourself to stay still.

His fists clench, and you see Azriel’s gaze turn lethal, a flash of cold fury that he barely contains.

Your ex doesn’t give you time to respond, the gray of his eyes fixed on Azriel, and his voice comes out filled with disdain, as sharp as a knife. “You’ll find out soon enough, she’s not worth it. All that pretty face, and she’s not even going to suck your…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He can’t. Because the moment those venomous words leave his mouth, Azriel moves, faster than a blink. You feel the heat of his body leave you for an instant, and then, the sound of impact. A dull, heavy thud reverberates in the air, and you see your ex stagger backward, blood spurting from his nose.

But Azriel doesn't stop there.

The wild gleam in his eyes tells you everything you need to know: he's not going to stop. He doesn't want to stop. With lethal efficiency, he launches himself at your ex again, his fist finding its mark over and over, with a fury that has been simmering for too long, now unleashed in an unstoppable torrent.

And you... do nothing to stop him. You could always say you were paralyzed, that you didn't know what to do, that it caught you by surprise because you remain there, your feet rooted to the ground as you watch Azriel destroy the man who had hurt you time and again. You should scream, you should intervene, but you don't. Because a part of you—that dark and wounded part—feels a perverse satisfaction watching him get what he deserves. Each blow seems to erase one of the invisible scars he left you, each groan of pain he emits sounds like justice for the years you lost with him.

Blood splatters the ground, and your ex tries to cover himself, but it’s futile. Azriel is unstoppable, his face transformed into a mask of pure rage, his shadows swirling around him like frenzied beasts, hungry for more.

But then, a giant figure bursts onto the scene, a whirlwind of muscle and strength. Cassian.

In an instant, the General of Rhys’s armies is upon them, his arms encircling Azriel and pulling him back with brutal force. But Azriel fights, his body trying to break free, desperate to keep punishing that man, to make him pay for every word, every insult, every wound he caused you.

"Azriel, stop!" Cassian’s voice booms above the chaos, laden with authority, but also concern. Cassian tightens his grip, his wings spreading to block everyone else’s view, his expression hardened as he uses all his strength to contain his brother.

You barely see it, but you hear him growl, a sound that doesn’t seem human, and for a terrible second, you think he might even turn on Cassian. His shadows swirl, dark and violent, but then, in an almost imperceptible movement, you see Azriel close his eyes, taking deep breaths, struggling with himself, fighting to control his rage.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Azriel relaxes enough for Cassian to release him, though his eyes are still blazing with that fury that makes you tremble. The shadows slowly recede, as if they still want to attack but obey their master.

Your ex lies on the ground, gasping, his face barely recognizable from the beating, but you know he’s conscious. You feel the weight of everyone’s gaze, but you can only look at Azriel. At Azriel, who continues to look at you as if you’re the only person in his world, as if his vision had narrowed to just you.

Cassian holds him by the shoulders, keeping him in place, though it’s no longer necessary. The fight is over, but the air is still charged with tension, so thick that if anyone decided to push too far, it would shatter with the sound of another broken bone.

Azriel steps away from Cassian, his eyes never leaving yours. He takes a step toward you, then another, until he’s standing in front of you, so close you can feel his breath on your skin.

"Are you okay?" His voice is a whisper, rough from the rage, but also filled with that unshakable concern he’s always had for you.

And for the first time in what seems like an eternity, you feel you can breathe again. You nod.

Cassian steps aside, giving one last piercing look at the man on the floor before giving you some space. Azriel remains unmoving, his eyes scanning every inch of your face, searching for any sign that this has affected you more than you admit. But all he sees is your determination.

"Let’s go," you finally say, your voice louder than you expected. You take his hand, his bloodied and bruised knuckles against your skin, and guide him out of Rita’s, away from the curious gazes and the chaos left behind.

————————————

The silence is almost overwhelming as you close the door of your apartment behind you. Azriel stands at the entrance, his eyes still dark with fury, but now the exhaustion and guilt begin to show in his expression. He says nothing, just watches you as you head to the bathroom and fetch the first aid kit. The sound of running water fills the space, but the tension between you is almost tangible.

When you return, you find him standing in the middle of the living room, his gaze lost on the floor. You don’t say anything as you gently take his hand, guiding him to the couch. Azriel allows himself to be led, his wings drooping and his posture relaxed now that the adrenaline has worn off. You can feel lighter yourself.

"Let me see," you whisper, barely a breath. You hold his hand with a softness that contrasts with the brutality of what you just witnessed. His knuckles are bloodied and his hands tremble slightly, though you’re not sure if it’s from the fight or from what he feels now.

He says nothing as you clean the blood, his gaze fixed on your hands, watching every move as if it’s the first time someone has cared for him this way. As if he’s never experienced tenderness before, and the way you’re wiping the blood from his knuckles is presenting it to him on a silver platter. It’s not the first time you’ve done this, but the intimacy of this moment, after what happened, feels different.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs finally, his voice barely a whisper. "I shouldn’t have lost control like that."

Your hands pause for a moment, your eyes meeting his. You see the guilt there, mixed with that smoldering rage that never seems to fully disappear.

"Don’t apologize," you reply firmly, resuming your task. "He deserved it. And... I’m not going to lie, Azriel. Watching him get what he deserved... it wasn’t so bad."

He looks at you, surprised by the confession, but something in your words seems to calm him. He accepts your response, though you know a part of him will always blame himself for losing control. It’s what makes him who he is.

When you finish cleaning and bandaging his knuckles, you keep his hand in yours for a moment longer, savoring the warmth you’ve always found in him. Azriel, who has always been your rock, your protector, now allows himself to be cared for, letting you see that vulnerability he so rarely shows.

"Thank you," he says softly, meeting your gaze with eyes now velvety as he looks at you without worrying about anything else, and his other hand reaching to caress your cheek with a gentleness that contrasts with the brutality of the night.

You don’t respond because there’s no need. Instead, you lean into him, allowing yourself to rest in the warmth of his embrace, in the comfort only he can offer you. Outside, the world keeps spinning, but here, in this small corner of your life, everything is calm.

[mattluvr]

⋆·˚ ༘ * a pure smut chris sturniolo oneshot !

( dom!college!chris, orgasm denial, teasing, doggystyle, praise, pet names, slight degradation if you squint )

chris is a one night stand type of guy.

he makes it clear to every girl he sleeps with that they get one chance to make him feel good, one night to supply him with endless pleasure, but is always left feeling. . . meh. nobody has taken his dick as well as you.

you’re the exception to his rule about the nights being singular; he just can’t seem to get enough of you.

consider tonight as an example. minutes ago, you’d been caught up in the throng of a crowd at a frat party, red solo cup in your clutches. now, you’re on your knees for none other than chris, the two of you in the confinements of a spare bedroom, the music from the party downstairs pulsing through your bodies.

chris’ dick is twitching in front of your face, his jeans and boxers in a puddle by his ankles as he looks down at you, teasing the waters by slowly dragging your manicured nails across his throbbing member.

“sweetheart…” chris hisses, his hand travelling to the back of your head, forcing you forward. you resist, glaring up at him, your nails raking with more harshness. he grits his teeth, secretly revelling in the pleasure it gives him.

this is what he likes about you; you’re not afraid to challenge him, take things a step too far in the best way possible, push boundaries. with previous girls, chris always felt he was being too rough, too mean. with you, he could easily put you in your place, but receive enough bite back to make things interesting.

“play nice.” you murmur, your tongue darting out, across his enraged tip, the boy above you letting out a guttural moan from the back of his throat.

“jesus, ma. you don’t know what you do to me.”

and you really don’t; chris is completely entranced by everything about you, from your outfits showing a sliver too much skin for his liking, cleavage peaking out over the neckline of your shirt, to your long eyelashes, batting up at him innocently. you turned him on more than you’d ever know.

you smile, kitten licking the head of his cock again, revelling in the response you’re receiving. you don’t know it, but you’re the only person who can make him whine aloud, who can make the air around you thick with moans.

it’s then that chris decides he can’t take the teasing any longer, needing to be in your cunt, which he can only imagine is dripping for him. it often is. with images of your underwear swimming round his head, he grabs you harshly under your arms, hoisting you onto your feet.

“i need to be inside you.” he growls, adjusting the backwards cap perched on his head. “right fucking now.”

“you don’t want to taste me first?” you challenge, and chris smirks. exactly why he likes you; never too afraid to push the boundaries.

he doesn’t verbally reply, simply bending down and removing your jeans with one swift movement. now, you’re left in your thong, mesh and decorated with an orange bow, and your shirt, the latter soon following the jeans. this reveals the matching bra, the orange detailing making chris’ head roll back. you look unbelievably sexy in his favourite colour.

“orange lingerie just for me, huh?” he teases, rough fingers running up the curves of your hips, pulling at your thong. you hiss, the crease of the material hitting your bundle of nerves deliciously, and you rub your thighs together to relieve the tension building up.

“you like it?”

“do i like it?” chris lets out a breathless laugh, hooking his fingers under the thong and rolling it down, revealing your glistening pussy. he needs you so bad it’s borderline embarrassing. “i fucking love it. you look so hot in my colour, baby. keep the bra on.”

your eyes sparkle, and you oblige, your own hands travelling up to rest on chris’ chest, feeling how his heart beats restlessly beneath his flushed skin. you almost miss chris’ fingers circling your clit, and when one of the pads of his index fingers presses down on the holy spot, you moan involuntarily, head flying down to rest in the crook of his shoulder.

“shit, chris. just like that.” you groan, the two of you still stood at the end of the bed as chris gets you off, his movements harsh yet so fucking good. “god, you make feel amazing. yeah, right there. fuuuuuck.”

a few more seconds of chris rubbing your swollen bud, and he decides that you’re wet enough to take him now. sure, he’s denying you a leg shaking orgasm, but his dick is crying out to be confined in your walls. he’s forever grateful that you’re on the pill; sex without a condom always felt better for him.

he pulls his finger away, and you whip your head up, a scowl on your face. “you son of a bitch. i was so close, chris.”

“i don’t give a fuck.” chris replies, his tone equally as condescending as yours. “i need to be inside you, that alright?”

he doesn’t wait for an answer, shoving you roughly onto the bed and picking you up by your hips, flipping you over. chris’ favourite position is and always has been doggystyle; there’s no sight he drools over more than your ass bouncing off his hips.

so he wastes no further time, guiding his tip to your sensitive entrance, both you and him moaning as he pushes himself into you. he feels as good as ever, and as he starts to move in and out at a steady pace, you feel that all too familiar pressure in the pit of your stomach.

“fuck, sweetheart. you look so pretty, your ass bouncing off my hips.” chris says in a hushed voice, his hands resting on your waist as he pulls you into him slowly. you mewl, throwing your hair over your shoulder as you reposition your weight onto your elbows.

this change in your angle gives chris more access to your g spot, buried deep within you, and he starts to thrust with more power, your vision clouding with stars. to chris, you’re the only girl who can take his dick, and to you, chris is the only boy who has ever handed you earth shattering pleasure. it’s a win win situation for both parties.

“oh fuck, i think i’m there already. baby, go faster.” you command, and chris hears you loud and clear, the bed frame squeaking as he pushes in and out at an ungodly pace.

you cry out, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap, the edge looming ever closer. chris is also close, his thighs trembling behind you, the view of your ass vibrating off him only driving his orgasm forward.

“shit, me too ma. you’re gonna make me cum so hard.”

“o-oh! yes, right there.” you lift your ass higher and receive a new wave of pleasure, your orgasm coming down with full force. “shiiiiit, i’m cumming. oh, fuck me.”

you whole body trembles as you hit your peak, pussy convulsing round chris’ dick, which in turn makes him orgasm. he groans, hips stuttering as he shoots his load into you, longer and harder than ever before.

he collapses against your back, breathing heavily as he pulls out of you, your breathing just as heavy as you turn underneath him, a hand coming up to brush the sweat from his forehead away.

“pretty good for a multiple night stand.” he jokes, fingers now soft as they run over your stomach.

you laugh. “glad to be at your service, sturniolo.”

and sure enough, the next week you’re in his bed, the music from the frat party below echoing through your bones. chris wouldn’t change the situation between the two of you for the fucking world.

[fallingformatt]

SINCE WE’RE PLAYING GAMES M.S.

Matt x fem!reader

summary: what happens when you try to cheat your way to win a game of twister?

warnings: SMUTTTTTTTT! unprotected sex, slight bdsm.

word count: 2.5k

a/n: Yall are some freaky fucking fucks… over a thousand notes on my post? Yall are insane, im so thankful for yall dirty minded ass people. I truly did not expect that to happen on my second post ever. And thank you all for almost 300 followers yall are the GOATS!!!

Let me know if I should write a pt. 2 for FIRST GLANCE M.S. available here

post is not proofread

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I'm currently at the triplet's house. The sun is setting, casting a beautiful orange hue to the living room where we all are sitting, drinking some drinks, and just talking. The music in the background isn't loud but I can hear it clearly.

"I'm bored, let's do something fun," Matt says looking down into his half-empty cup. "Well I don't have any ideas," Chris shrugs his shoulders. "I have an amazing idea," Nick yells, startling me. "Nick, you scared me, I almost spilled my drink," I say out loudly slapping his shoulder. "Please ask me what my idea is, please, please, please," Nick tries to plead to make us ask him what his idea is.

"So what is ur 'amazing' idea?" I ask looking at him with a serious face. "We're all gonna play twister," Nick says ecstatically clapping his hands together like a kid. "No Nick, we are not playing twister, we're not five," Matt says annoyed. "Oh look I'm Matt, I'm so tuff and boring, I don't like to have fun," Nick mocks Matt, making me and Chris laugh.

"Well I don't know about y'all, but I'm tipsy, there's no way I could play twister right now," Matt says tugging on the collar of his black t-shirt, his eyes from across the room to meet mine, sending butterflies to my stomach.

I've always had a little crush on Matt, but I never really did anything about it, because I didn't want to ruin the friendship between us. I mean yeah, sure I would sometimes tease him, wearing something revealing, making his eyes wander to places they shouldn't, for example, today, I was wearing short, low-waisted shorts and a small leopard print baby tee, but I knew that, me doing something with Matt would probably change the dynamics of the group as a whole, so I left it as is, hoping my crush on Matt would sooner or later die down.

"You're just scared that you'll lose, so I have a proposition, whoever loses takes a shot of vodka," Nick says proudly. "That's the dumbest thing I have heard in my life," Matt says crossing his arms. "Well, as far as I know, five-year-olds can't drink vodka, so who's the five-year-old now huh?" Nick defends his idea. "We all are a bit tipsy so the chances of you winning are fair, you're just a pussy," Nick says trying to provoke Matt. "Yeah Matt, don't be a pussy," Chris joins in. "Okay, that's it, we're playing, and I'm going to win," Matt says and smiles confidently. Nick claps his hands excitedly as he stands up and walks to the pile of board games that are stacked on a shelf above the TV.

"Found it! Y'all are going down, I hope y'all like the taste of losing, because y'all are gonna be licking the L's shortly," Nick says with a devious smile. "Okay, this one's clearly had more than enough to drink," Matt says as he facepalms.

Nick sets up the game, laying the playing pad down on the floor and placing the spinner next to the mat. "So, who wants to go first?" Nick says grinning. "I'll go," Chris answers and bends down to spin the indicator. "Right foot on red." He says out loud and steps on the playing mat. We all take our turns and the game is starting to get intense.

"Nick you are going to lose," Matt says his voice getting higher at the end of the sentence. The poses we are in are criminal. We are four, grown adults standing on this little mat, meant for children. At this point in the game, the slightest movement could make us all fall down. "Chris, you look like a deformed frog," I say as I'm laughing, almost snorting. Chris's right foot is still on red, his left foot is on blue, his right hand on blue, in front of his left leg, and his left hand is in front of his right leg. Nick is chilling in a comfortable position, meanwhile, I'm stretched out, so close to fall.

We all spin a few times. When all of a sudden Chris loses his balance and falls. "Hah, it wasn't even your turn, you're out, take a shot," Nick yells, happy that he's still in the game. "This is so annoying, 100 bucks on Nick falling next," Chris says as he takes a shot of vodka. I'm now in a compromising position, both of my hands are on red and my feet are on green and yellow, my position is leaving my ass high up in the air. Nick is now barely staying in the game.

"Nick it's your turn," Chris says out loudly, the alcohol he's had, making him unaware of the volume he's speaking in. Nick spins the spinner, "right hand green," Chris says. As Nick tried to move his hand, he lost his balance and fell. "Fuck," he yells out as he stands up. "Where my money at?" Chris says as he hands Nick a shot of vodka.

"Spin it," I say to Matt, and he does. "Left hand red," I say and Matt starts to move his left hand. Now both of his hands need to be on red and the only place in order for him not to fall is on either side of my hands. As he moves over me he brushes against my ass making me lose my balance slightly. Placing his hand next to mine, his head is now next to mine, "sorry," he says quietly, his hot breath brushing against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

It's now my turn and if I don't think of something quickly, I'm going to lose. I look over my shoulder to see what Chris and Nick are doing, they are currently in the kitchen getting some drinks. My lips move making a small grin, this is perfect.

As I reach for the spinner, I pop up my ass, making it brush against Matt's crotch. "Right hand red, looks like I'm safe for now," I say as I turn to Matt, a smirk appearing on my lips.

After taking my turn, I move back, again brushing against his crotch, now feeling something hard. "Don't do that," Matt says in an almost moaning tone. "Do what?" I say looking at him. "Don't try to act all innocent," he says in a serious tone. "It's your turn," I say, a smile plastered on my face.

Matt takes his turn and spins the spinner, "left foot green," He says, looking at the spinner. As he tries to move, I once again pop up my ass, making him brush against it once again, the tension on his crotch getting too much for him, making him lose his balance and he falls. "Ha, I win," I say as I stand up clapping my hands together. Nick and Chris rush over to the living room.

"Did Matt lose?" Nick asks. "Yeah because she cheated," he says, anger and frustration can be heard in his voice. "What did I do, that counts as cheating?" I ask, raising one eyebrow, as a smirk creeps on my lips again, knowing he can't say anything without explaining him further. "Nothing," Matt murmurs. "What's that? I couldn't hear you," I tease him. "I said, nothing," Matt raises his voice, standing up and storming off to his room.

"I am too drunk for this," Chris says throwing up his hands as he turns around and heads to his room. "Can you help me clean this up?" I ask Nick, and he nods kneeling down.

We cleaned everything up and put the game back in its place. "You ready to head to bed?" Nick asks. "You go, I'm going to come later, I'm going to check on Matt," I say as I start walking to Matt's room. "Goodnight Nick," I say smiling. "Goodnight." He answers.

Without knocking I open the door to Matt's room. "Hey, you okay?" I ask as I look at him. He's sitting on the edge of his bed looking straight at me. "I was waiting for you to come in, want to play a game?" Matt says. "Sure, what game?" I ask unsure what game he had planned.

"Since we're playing games, let's play a game you can't cheat in," he says a smirk creeping on his lips. "Simon says, close the door," Matt says. Oh shit, we're already playing. I close the door not moving an inch. "Simon says turn around and lock the door," his voice getting deeper. I do as he says. "Simon says turn back around and stand in front of me," he says. As I turn around, about to walk in front of Matt, my eyes meet his, his eyes grow dark and his lips form a slight grin.

"Simon says strip," he says his tone getting even deeper, a hint of lust accompanying his voice. "What?" I ask, my voice slightly trembling. "You heard me, Simon says strip," he repeats. I start off by taking off my baby tee throwing it on the ground leaving my upper body fully naked. I slip out of my shorts, letting them fall to my ankles before stepping out of them. I pick up my head to look at Matt, he stares me up and down licking his lips.

He stands up and walks closer to me, his hands move my hair to one side of my shoulder, then proceeds to leave a wet kiss on the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His hand reaches over my body, touching my neck as he stands behind me "Left hand red." He says as slides his hand down my neck stopping at my breast. He massages my boob, pulling on my nipple making me moan.

"You like that?" He whispers in my ear. I don't answer. "Simon says answer," Matt says as his other hand slides down into my panties, pressing his finger against my clit before rubbing circles, making me moan. "Yes Matt I like that," I say as I throw back my head resting it on Matt's shoulder. He pulls out his hand, "Simon says turn around," Matt says and as soon as I do, he smashes his lips onto mine.

Matt wraps his hand around my waist taking small steps, leading us to his bed without breaking the kiss. I brush against his clothed cock, rubbing it slightly before I feel a slap on my hand making me break the kiss, I look up. "Nuh uh," Matt says shaking his finger, "Simon didn't say," he smirks and pulls his black t-shirt over his head throwing it to the ground next to my clothes.

He removes his belt, sliding it out of the belt loops of his oversized jean shorts, making them slide down a little, revealing the band of his boxers. He looks at me before moving his gaze to my hands.

"Simon says, extend your hands." His voice was demanding, I brought out my hands, and he grabbed them and put them together before wrapping and tying them together with his belt.

Matt puts his hand on my hips pushing them back, guiding me backward. As I take steps backward, I eventually fall on his bed. He crawls on top of me, spreading my legs with his knee, making space for himself.

He yanks up my hands by the tied belt, pinning them above my head, immediately, Matt attacks my neck with his lips, leaving a trail of kisses from my neck to my breasts, he kisses softly, slipping in a few bites. His hand slides up my thigh, stopping at my heat, his thumb starts to draw circles on my clit.

"Matt," I moan out. "Shhh, we don't want Nick or Chris hearing us do we?" He says looking up at me, taking his lips off of my breast. I shake my head in response and he smirks, "good girl," he says as he continues to rub circles on my clit his lips now moving back from my breast to my collarbone to my jaw before meeting my lips.

"Matt," I moan out as I try to pull my hands out of his grip. "Matt what?" He says as his hands push harder on mine, making sure I can't move. "Please, I need you," I whimper. He lets go of my hands and pulls away from my clit, making me let out a whimper from the loss of contact.

I immediately bring my hands down to my clit and start rubbing circles on my clit, pleasuring myself. As he unbuttons his jeans, he notices my hands, he grabs and pins them above my head again. "Are you gonna make me punish you?" He says his voice filthy and dark. "No," I say, shaking my head and looking at him. "Yeah, be a good girl for me," Matt says practically growling.

I move up and down my hips trying to get some relief as I watch him undo his jean shorts pulling them down, his boxers with them making his cock spring out, hitting his lower abdomen, precum glistening on his tip. Matt looks at me, "see what your little strategy to win did to me," he says raising his eyebrow.

"Please Matt, I can't take it anymore," I say as I scoot closer. Matt moves on top of me pinning my hands again, his other hand sliding my panties to the side before aligning himself with my heat. He pushes his cock in slowly before pulling it out almost completely, then pushing back in hard. "Oh- my- god- Matt-" I moan out between thrusts, his hand moving over my mouth to muffle my moans.

Matt fastens his thrusts, with each thrust going in deeper, making me moan out loud, he leans into my ear. "That's it, sweetheart, take my cock so good," Matt growls, pushing in me deeper than ever, his tip hitting my g-spot with every thrust. "Mmmm Matt you feel so good, I'm close," I moan out feeling my climax creeping up tension building in my stomach.

Matt moves his elbow next to my head, positioning himself so he's able to thrust even deeper. I arch my back as the pleasure takes over my body. His quiet moans landed in my ear, his hot breath sending me over the edge.

"Matt, I'm about to cum," I moan out. He smashes his lips onto mine in order to contain my moans as he plants a few more thrusts before I feel my walls tighten around his length, feeling the knot in my stomach releasing, my climax coming over me, I moan into the kiss. His hips continue to move as he thrusts in me a few more times before planting his cum inside me groaning, breaking the kiss.

He pulls out falling next to me, turning his head to look at me. "Who won?" He says smirking. "I did," I answer smiling, knowing this will piss him off. "Can you untie me?" I say as I shake my hands. "You didn't say Simon says," Matt answers teasing me back. "Simon says round two," I say as a devilish smirk appears on my lips.

I guess I won't be heading to Nick's room tonight.

[hairyjocktf]

A Sweaty Semester

Dean let out a heavy breath as he wiped the sweat from his face. His phone said it was 98 degrees out but it felt like 112. He’d been dreading moving in August for this very reason, but at least the worst was over now, he thought. Surrounded by boxes he slumped onto his new bed, his soaked shirt cold against his back. Dean had just moved into his dorm room in central Texas, a full week early because his mom said he should “get to know the town”. The building was old and the air conditioning was barely functioning, leading to a miserable couple hours of moving boxes in oppressive heat. After a long drive and the unloading ordeal, he was exhausted, the heat lulling him to sleep as he laid on his bare bed. 

That was until the door to his room flew open, banging against the wall and startling Dean out of his nap. He heard shuffling and grunting outside in the hall as a stench began to leak into the room. It was almost more nauseating than the heat, a pungent mix of sweat, body odor, and who knows what else. Dean’s eyes watered as a figure holding several boxes stepped into the room before dropping them onto the opposing bed. He turned around revealing himself to Dean. He was at least six feet tall, broad and pretty built, his large frame only partially covered by a sweat soaked tank top. His face was covered in a thick beard, and the tank revealed a substantially hairy chest and shoulders. Now that he was in Dean’s face, the stench was ten times as bad, he could practically taste the sweat on the guy’s body in the air. He grinned and stuck out a hand towards Dean, “The name’s Hunter.”

Dean stared at him for a few seconds too long before stretching out his own, “Dean.” Hunter’s grin turned into a full on smile. 

“Well nice to meet ya dude!” he said with a vigorous handshake. Dean was still staring at him, there was no way Hunter was a college freshman, he looked years older than himself at the very least. His daze was broken when Hunter raised an arm to scratch the side of his head, letting a fresh wave of musky stench out directly into Dean’s face. He nearly doubled over from the intensity; how on Earth was he going to live with someone who stunk like this?

“It’s a real roaster out there today huh? I’ve got some more boxes out in my truck that I’m gonna go get, but first let’s get some air flowing in here.” Hunter proceeded to open the dorm window letting a gust of blistering air inside. “It may still be hot but at least it’s some circulation,” he chuckled before walking back into the hall and leaving Dean alone. He was stunned. The outside air helped marginally with the lingering scent but made the heat even worse, and in minutes he was back to sweating buckets. Dean’s mind was racing with thoughts trying to cope with how the next year of living with this guy would be. He could barely think straight when Hunter was in the room with that eye watering aroma of his. While he was still alone Dean stripped off his sopping wet shirt and threw on a fresh one to try and maintain some level of comfort, before beginning the arduous task of unpacking all of his boxes.

A few minutes later Hunter returned with another huge stack of boxes, his sweat-drenched form glistening in the afternoon light. “Alright I think that’s most of it, guess I’ll join ya here in putting it all away!” he laughed. Dean managed to put on a smile but internally he was really going through it, and that was before Hunter pulled out a speaker and put on some music that sounded like something Dean’s father would listen to. Dean gulped, and they both got to work unpacking box after box. Even though he’d just changed, Dean’s shirt was soaked almost immediately. He had to pull out his bath towel just to wipe the sweat from his face. He knew it was hot but this was getting ridiculous, and on top of that he could barely breathe with Hunter’s noxious fumes filling the room. After a while of hanging clothes and dripping sweat all over the room, Dean backed out into the hall to use the bathroom. Miraculously, it was significantly cooler out there. Maybe the open window was doing more harm than anything, he thought. Upon returning to the room a few minutes later he was greeted with a blast of late afternoon heat, the intense smell of a sweaty body, and Hunter lounging on his haphazardly made bed, exposing his ripe pits to the air. 

Dean paused in the doorway, unknowingly staring at Hunter’s pits. They were covered with thick tufts of brown hair, matted down by sweat. He could practically see the stench wafting from them. Hunter looked up from his phone, catching Dean staring. He smirked before reaching with one hand to tousle the hairs, even pulling his hand up to his nose after to sniff it. Dean’s trance was broken by his gut reaction to gag at such a sight. Why had he been staring at those disgusting pits in the first place? He put those thoughts out of his mind and got back to shoving stuff under his bed. Sweat dripped from his hair onto everything in front of him; it was so hot in the room, and the smell of sweat permeated everything. Dean couldn’t get the sight of Hunter’s hairy sweaty body out of his mind for some reason, no matter how much he tried to focus on what he was doing. He even caught his dick pressing hard against his shorts at one point. What the hell was going on?

That night Dean laid out on his bed, tossing and turning from the heat. It had cooled down but Hunter insisted they keep the window open; at least it helped with the smell a bit. He could feel the top sheet beneath him was fully soaked through, his sweat was inescapable. He could see the drops on him shining from the streetlight outside. It was near impossible to get any rest like this, with Hunter snoring across the room stinking up the place. He’d taken off everything but his underwear just to try and cool down, exposing all of him to the heat. His thin pale body dripped sweat in the stagnant night air, drops sliding down his hairless skin. As Dean laid there, the sweat coating his body slowly began to soak into his skin. Thin, wispy hairs began to push out around his nipples, nearly invisible if not for the streetlight catching them. Following those, more hairs poked out in the center of his chest, these slightly darker and spreading over a wider area. They were short and laid flat against his skin as his chest became slightly less bony with a thin layer of muscle and fat gracing his rib cage. His forearms were dusted with a light coating of thin hairs, growing thicker near his wrists. His thighs expanded slightly in size before hairs began sprouting across their expanse, growing slightly thicker and darker than the others. His face itched as peach fuzz across his upper lip darkened a tad, with some more fuzz appearing around his chin. Dean groaned softly in his sleep as his dick pushed harder against his tight underwear, exposing his small amount of hair above. As the sweat soaked in, hairs began to multiply, short dark hairs pushing out from his bush, spreading upwards towards his stomach. As he rolled and twisted on the bed he exposed his bare armpits, and under the soft light from the lamppost thin wispy hairs began to sprout. The hairs grew longer, not too visible at a distance but enough to begin catching some sweat and scents of his own.

Hunter was awake as soon as the sunlight began to light up the room. He looked over at Dean, who was still out cold. He grinned upon seeing the light dusting of hairs that now adorned Dean’s chest and pits, before scratching at his own. He threw on some clothes and left to go jog and hit the gym. By the time Dean finally woke up all that was left was the faint remnant of Hunter’s smell. He rolled out of bed and hit the shower, too tired to notice any changes until he looked in the mirror after. His blood ran cold. What the hell was this? He had hair on his chest. Not much, but more than he’d ever had before. And his legs! They were nearly smooth yesterday! He raised his hands to his head and saw a dark spot under his arms. Pit hair?! Dean was really starting to freak out now, but for some reason he lowered his nose down and sniffed at one of his pits. Despite having just washed them, they already smelled fairly strongly of sweat and body odor; the scent was almost… familiar. Despite his mind screaming in anguish, the smell calmed him slightly. 

Dean tried to put the shower behind him as he got dressed and left the building. He had some shopping to get done before classes started and he wanted to get familiar with the area. An hour later he was walking down aisle after aisle of home goods and furniture, but his mind was somewhere else. He kept thinking about the hair growing on his chest, about Hunter’s strong odor, about how he couldn’t look away from Hunter’s rancid pits yesterday. He didn’t know what to think anymore, what was happening to him.

When he finally got back to the dorm he could already tell Hunter was inside, his smell leaking from under the door into the hall. It seemed slightly less putrid than before, but still an affront to his nose. WIth a deep breath, he opened the door. It was hot and smelly in the room, the afternoon sun blazing through the open window. Hunter was again laid out on his bed, this time entirely shirtless. His broad and toned torso was completely covered in thick hair, and drenched with sweat on top of that. He looked up at Dean and smiled.

“Hey champ! Where’ve you been?” he asked cheerfully. The question barely registered in Dean’s head as he was staring at the rug on Hunter’s chest. After a delay he responded.

“Oh, uh, just had some things I needed to pick up before school gets going,” he said. Hunter sat up and stretched his arms over his head, revealing both his sweaty pits. Dean was blasted by a fresh wave of the odor coming from them, but he didn’t recoil this time, or even gag.

“Ah yea, I should do that too probably,” Hunter laughed. He scratched at his pit, making eye contact with Dean while doing so. He noticed the bulge in Dean’s pants from across the room, before smiling devilishly. “I noticed this morning you’ve got a little more hair on you than I expected! Have to give you some credit,” he said with a smirk. Dean’s face went bright red.

“Did you do this? Are you the one fucking with my head? This isn’t me… It’s been in my head all day… How could you even…” Dean trailed off. Hunter stood up from the bed and walked over to Dean, his large size dwarfing the boy. At point blank the smell coming from Hunter was intoxicating, and Dean was internally torn. Part of him, the original Dean, was disgusted, the lack of cleanliness was an affront. But the other part of him had grown to love the scent, to think about it and Hunter all day, to crave it more and more. Hunter looked down at him with a cunning grin, before raising one of his arms and exposing that damp, rank, hairy pit. In that moment, the new Dean won. He stuck his face deep into Hunter’s dank armpit and breathed in, taking in the most intense smell yet. Hunter laughed and then grabbed the back of Dean's head and pushed it in even farther. Sweat dripped from Hunter’s pit hairs onto Dean’s face, his body soaked already from the thick summer heat.

As the sweat dripped down his face, Dean could feel something itching. The soft peach fuzz that had grown the night before was thickening. Light wisps grew into thick dark hairs, spreading from his upper lip and chin across his jaw and down his neck. The hairs pushed out quickly, filling in into a dense beard that scratched against Hunter’s pit. Hairs climbed up his cheeks, giving him a thick coating across his whole face, able to trap even more of the sweat dripping on him.

The sweat continued to drip down Dean’s neck and onto his chest as he breathed in more of Hunter’s thick scent. His flat chest began pushing outward, muscle piling onto his frame as two sturdy pecs made themselves known. The light coating of hairs he had grown was quickly overwhelmed as a carpet of thick dark curly hairs erupted across his chest. The sweat fertilized the open expanse as hairs wormed out all over his pecs, engulfing his nipples and tangling together. They reached up over his collarbone and even started growing in on his neck. The dense rug grew even thicker between his growing pecs, hairs multiplying until they looked like fur, hiding any skin. Dean pulled back from Hunter’s pit, gasping for fresh air as he rubbed his hands through the newly grown hair.

Dean felt almost high from taking in so much of Hunter’s pit stench. He wobbled back against his bed and continued to rub his hands through his new chest hair. He groaned as he felt his body continue to expand. His shoulders grew larger and rounder, biceps exploding with size, and his torso grew muscled and took on a V shape. He stripped off his sweat drenched shirt only to see the thick hairs from his stomach spreading downward. His tight stomach was buried beneath a dense mat of dark hairs as they raced south towards his groin. It was then that he finally noticed the massive bulge in his pants, his cock having grown at least a few inches and pushing his shorts to their limit. Hunter stepped over and ripped both his shorts and underwear clean off, letting Dean’s still growing cock bob free. Hunter grabbed it with one hand and before Dean could finish moaning he shoved his face back into his sweaty armpit. Dean’s open mouth was filled with sweaty hair, Hunter’s pungent sweat now dripping down his throat. Dean continued to moan from inside the pit, the pitch growing steadily deeper as his Adam’s apple pushed out.

Hunter took his hand off Dean’s cock, wiped it across his furry chest to get it nice and sweaty, then returned it and began stroking slowly up and down. Dean’s body shuddered with pleasure as pre immediately shot out of his cock. As Hunter slowly moved his hand he watched as the thin bush of hair around the base of the cock began to thicken up. Thick hairs began sprouting up like weeds, dark and curly they wove together into a monstrous bush that kept expanding. The hairs crawled all across his groin, up onto his stomach, and out onto his thighs, the bush only growing denser as more hairs sprouted between old ones. Within minutes Hunter could smell Dean’s growing scent as sweat gathered in the thick bush. Dean groaned as his balls swelled in size and hung lower, the sack becoming engulfed in the same thick fur as it raced from his groin to his ass. His hole was quickly surrounded by dark wiry hairs that sprouted densely in his crack, before blossoming out across his tight ass in a dense fur.

Dean kept moaning from within Hunter’s hairy pit, letting more sweat down his throat. His body continued to grow, muscles popping out across his arms and legs and his frame steadily bulking up. He was even growing taller as a result, Hunter had to push him back against the bed to keep his face locked in. The more Hunter stroked Dean’s cock the more hair continued to spread across his body. His thigh’s already dense coating only grew darker and thicker before moving on to his calves and feet. His shoulders began growing their own coat with thick hairs popping out across the broad expanse, with his arms following suit. His forearms grew dark with a thick rug stretching onto the backs of his hands.

Hunter released Dean’s face before reaching down into his newly grown bush. He got his hand nice and damp before raising Dean’s arms, exposing his paltry amount of hair, and starting rubbing the groin sweat in. Within seconds he could feel his hand rubbing through more hair than before, as new thicker hairs started to shoot up. Dark wiry hairs exploded from Dean’s armpits, forming into a thick tuft of hair that stuck out in every direction, even connecting to the rug on his chest. Hunter grinned as he began to smell Dean’s own scent coming from the pits, growing stronger as more and more hairs pushed out. The hairs kept spreading, giving Dean the thickest forest of pit hair Hunter had ever seen. Dean’s sweat stuck in the jungle, giving it a ripe scent almost immediately. Hunter released Dean from his grip, and his instincts commanded him to sniff his own ripe pits. Dean groaned as he smelled the sweaty odorous pits, scratching his fingers through the thick fur.

Dean then went to stroking his massive cock that Hunter had been edging for a while now. He moaned as each pump coursed through his body, adding more muscle and fur to his frame. His beard pushed out more from his face, even his back began to grow coated with fur. The room was thick with the mixed scents of Hunter and Dean now, and every breath was intoxicating. His breaths grew ragged as he neared climax, and with a roar his cock erupted with the biggest load of Dean’s life. Blast after blast of thick cum shot out, landing all over his hairy body, with some even flying onto Hunter, who laughed. Dean’s cock continued to drizzle the last bits of his load as he collapsed onto his bed, soaked in sweat and cum stuck in his thick body hair. He slowly rubbed his hands across his massive body, feeling how much he’d grown. He’d become a giant to match Hunter, muscled, hairy, and incredibly sweaty and smelly. The stench of both their sweaty bodies was too much for almost anyone, but all Dean craved was more.

Thank you all for 1,000 followers! What an insane milestone. Hope you enjoy this one!

[bangchansdirty-slut]

My Dopamine

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Paring: Top!Giselle x Member!Bttm! Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Giselle wrote "Dopamine" about you and couldn't help but express what the song is really about when you asked her.

More: Masterlist

A/n: I couldn't stop listening to Dopamine by Giselle and Roses by Jaehyun while writing this. I might be obsessed with these songs. Also, should I write fan fiction based on the other members' solo songs?

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Giselle sat on the couch on the stage, the lights dimming around her as the music began to swell. The audience, a sea of waving lightsticks, was entranced by the opening notes of her solo performance. She took a deep breath, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. This was the moment she had been waiting for, a chance to showcase her own voice and her own story. As she opened her mouth to let the lyrics flow, she thought about the inspiration behind the song. Her eyes searched the shadows offstage, finding the familiar figure of Y/n, who was watching her intently.

The words of "Dopamine" spilled from Giselle's lips, each syllable a declaration of the intense passion she felt for her secret lover. Her rap was sharp and precise, the bass vibrating through the stadium as she spit verses filled with desire and lust. She knew Y/n would recognize the subtle references to their clandestine encounters, the way she spoke of her body as if it were a sacred text that only the two of them could read. The chorus hit, and Giselle's gaze held steady on Y/n, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she sang about the taste of her, the feel of her, the way she was Giselle's dopamine fix.

Backstage, Y/n felt a rush of heat as the realization dawned on her. Her eyes widened as she watched Giselle perform, her cheeks flushing at the explicit nature of the lyrics. She knew that the other members and the staff wouldn't catch on, but for her, it was as if the song was a love letter played out for the world to see. Her heart raced, her breath shallow, as she listened to the words that painted a vivid picture of their secret moments together. The crowd roared their approval, and Y/n couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement and exposure at the same time.

After the concert, the members of Aespa made their way back to their hotel. The energy of the show still pulsed through their veins as they chattered about the performance, but Y/n remained quiet, lost in thought. When they finally reached their hotel room, she turned to Giselle, her eyes searching for any signs of embarrassment or regret. Instead, she found only a smoldering gaze that sent a bolt of desire straight to her core. Giselle's smirk grew wider as she leaned in, her voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down Y/n's spine. "You know that song was all about your delicious body, don't you?"

Before Y/n could respond, Giselle closed the distance between them and pushed her onto the bed. With surprising strength, she tugged at Y/n's skirt, revealing the matching set of lacy panties she had picked out earlier. Her eyes gleamed with hunger as she pulled the fabric aside and bent her head to kiss the soft skin of Y/n's inner thighs. "I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore," Giselle murmured, her breath hot against Y/n's skin. "You're my muse, my addiction."

Y/n's eyes rolled back in her head as Giselle's tongue darted out to trace her folds. She had always been sensitive, but with Giselle's expert touch, it felt like every nerve was on fire. Her moans grew louder, filling the room as Giselle's mouth moved closer to the spot she craved. Giselle's hands were everywhere, now they're holding her hips in place as she explored her with a hunger that was unmatched.

Their eyes locked, and in that moment, Y/n felt a surge of power. Despite being the one on her back, she knew she had just as much control in this situation as Giselle did. She reached down, her fingers tangling in Giselle's hair, and pushed her face closer to her wetness. Giselle's eyes sparkled with challenge, but she didn't hesitate. Her tongue delved into Y/n's core, making her gasp and arch off the bed. The sensation was intense, a perfect blend of pleasure and pressure that had Y/n's legs shaking and her toes curling.

Giselle's ministrations grew more fervent, her tongue swirling and flicking against Y/n's clit with a precision that spoke of countless hours of practice. Y/n's moans grew louder, echoing through the hotel room like a siren's call. She felt Giselle's hand slip up her tank top, seeking out her hardened nipples. The pinching and twisting sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her pussy, and she bucked her hips against Giselle's face. The world outside of their embrace faded away, leaving only the two of them in a cocoon of lust and desire.

Y/n's breath hitched as Giselle's teeth grazed her sensitive bud, and she couldn't help but let out a loud cry. The sound seemed to spur Giselle on, her movements becoming more insistent. Y/n felt her orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to consume her. She gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white with the effort to hold on, her eyes squeezed shut as if to keep the intensity within. But it was too much, and she shattered, her body convulsing with the force of her release.

Giselle looked up at Y/n, a smug smile playing on her lips, as the latter lay panting and trembling beneath her. "You're mine, Y/n," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "Every inch of you is my dopamine." She began to strip away her own clothes, revealing her toned body and the matching lingerie she had chosen for the evening. Y/n felt a mix of excitement and vulnerability as she watched Giselle's confidence grow.

They settled into a 69 position, Y/n eager to return the favor. But Giselle's own arousal was a distraction. Her scent filled the air, and Y/n's mouth watered at the thought of tasting her. She tried to focus on Giselle's pussy, but her own need was still so raw and demanding. Giselle's fingertips danced across her clit, sending waves of pleasure through her body, making it impossible to concentrate.

Giselle's moans grew louder as Y/n's mouth worked on her. Her tongue lapped and swirled, trying to mimic the moves that had brought her to the edge just moments before. But Giselle was relentless, her fingers moving faster, pressing harder, until Y/n's world narrowed to the point between her legs. Her hips began to move, grinding into Giselle's mouth, her moans becoming cries.

Y/n squirted again, the warmth of her release coating Giselle's mouth and chin. Giselle pulled back, licking her lips clean with a satisfied smile. "Baby you need to please me too," she whispered,, her voice filled with need. Y/n nodded, feeling the urgency building within her as well. They shifted, and Giselle is now straddling Y/n's face, her pussy hovering just above her mouth. Y/n opened her eyes and took in the sight of her lover, her body begging for more.

Giselle's pussy was a masterpiece, wet and swollen from desire. Y/n eagerly dove in, her tongue darting out to taste her. Giselle's hips began to rock immediately, setting a rhythm that had both of them moaning in pleasure. Giselle's hand found Y/n's hair, guiding her movements, as she worked her own clit with the other hand. Y/n's own arousal grew, her pussy throbbing in response to the sound of Giselle's pleasure.

The taste of Giselle was like nothing she had ever experienced, a heady mix of sweet and salty that made Y/n feel high. She felt Giselle's muscles tighten around her face as she brought her closer to the brink. The scent of their combined desire was intoxicating, filling the room and making it difficult to think about anything but the moment. Giselle's thighs trembled, and Y/n knew she was close.

With a final, desperate thrust of her hips, Giselle came hard, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. She collapsed onto the bed next Y/n, panting and smiling. The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with the scent of arousal. Y/n looked up at her, eyes glazed over with lust, her mouth still slick with Giselle's juices.

Giselle came closer and kissed Y/n, the taste of their shared pleasure mingling on their tongue. Y/n's body was still humming with the aftershocks of her own climax, but she craved more. Giselle lets go and stands up, her eyes never leaving Y/n's. "Let's go shower," she suggests with a wink, her voice husky from the passionate exchange.

Y/n nods, her legs wobbly as she stands. They walk into the bathroom, the tiles cold against their bare feet, the contrast making their skin tingle with excitement. The shower is already steaming up the room, and Giselle steps in, holding out a hand to help Y/n in. The water cascades down their bodies, washing away the sweat and the evidence of their desire. They stand under the spray, kissing deeply, their bodies pressed together as the water runs over their curves.

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 7: The Realization

A/N: Thank you to everyone who’s enjoyed this series! When I had the idea for this, I had NO idea it was going to be as well loved as it’s become. I love and appreciate every like, follow, reblog, and ask!

As Bruce walks down the staircase and steps foot on the foyer’s marble floor, he realizes that something’s wrong. Well, he’s known that something’s been wrong for four years now, but he’s attributed it to his pile of never-ending cases, particularly the murder of the Joker and Harley Quinn, which has been eating away at him ever since that night and has occupied every corner of his mind. It’s been four years since he discovered their remains and he’s still in the dark, the only piece of evidence he has is some strange substance reminiscent of mold found within Joker’s remains.

What he’s currently feeling, however? It’s not the need to solve a case that threatens his city. It’s as if something is wrong with the manor itself, like there’s something missing. Something that he’s never paid much attention before but has always known is there, and now that something’s wrong, he can’t help but rack his brain for what it could be.

As he tries to thinks, he walks to the kitchen to find a snack (something pre-made, Alfred’s permanently banned him from ever cooking in his kitchen ever again) when he hears voices. Three voices, to be precise, and they’re definitely amused by something. As he gets closer, he can make out what they’re saying.

“I can’t believe he of all people would have this,” Tim says, an obvious smile intertwined in his tone.

“Hey, we’re all free to do what we want in our spare time,” Dick responds. “And if anyone in this house has earned spare time, it’s Alfred.”

“I’m not saying he shouldn’t do stuff he likes on his time off,” Tim quickly counters. “I’m just saying that I never would’ve expected him to be into stuff like this.”

“For once, I agree with Drake,” Damian, the third voice, interjects. “Pennyworth is a man of refined taste. For him to indulge in this childish entertainment is entirely unexpected. Only mindless buffoons would subject themselves to this drivel.”

“Hey,” Time exclaims, offended. “I happen to enjoy this ‘childish entertainment.’”

“My point stands. Once again, you prove your inferiority and poor breeding, Drake.”

That’s when Bruce decides to step in before a fight can break out in the kitchen (again) and enters, all three of his sons, who are crowding around something on the kitchen island, turning to him.

“Hey, B,” Dick says with his usual smile adorning his face.

“Hey,” Tim adds, glaring at Damian.

“Hello, Father,” Damian says, not sparing a glance at Tim and a ghost of a smirk on his face.

“Hello, boys. Is something wrong? I heard something about Alfred.”

“No, we just learned something amazing,” Dick answers, practically buzzing with joy. “You’ll never guess what Alfred’s into!”

This certainly catches his attention. He’s known his faithful butler his entire life and likes to think he knows everything about the man who raised him after his parents were killed. To find something out about the man he didn’t know before is something that’s definitely worth his attention.

“What,” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

The three of them part, revealing a laptop on the granite top. More specifically, it’s Alfred’s laptop. It’s strange enough that the man who takes the care of his kitchen as gospel would leave something like his laptop out in the open (especially since he’s always on their case about snooping on each other’s personal lives), but what really blows his mind is what’s on the screen: the menu for what appears to be a video game. It features what appears to be a derelict ship floating in space with soft music playing in the background and several options on the lower part and what he’s assuming is the title on the upper part: Salvage Rights.

“Alfred plays video games,” he asks, completely bewildered at the discovery.

“That’s what I said,” Tim exclaims. “I mean, I think it’s great if he wants to do that. I just didn’t expect him to be a gamer.”

“Don’t group Pennyworth in with your group of pathetic mouth breathers who don’t know what is fiction and what is reality.”

“So, what’s it about,” he asks, trying to stop a fight from breaking out in the kitchen that will net all of them in trouble.

“I’ve been trying to avoid spoilers, but from what I can tell you, it take place in the future after the sun imploded, forcing several fleets of ships to flee to a nearby star cluster, but only a few planets in the cluster can support human life naturally and several of them hold valuable resources, causing a war between three different factions to break out for control over the cluster,” his explains excitedly, making Bruce smile at the sight of his third son acting like a young man his age should. “You play the captain of a prospecting vessel that salvages derelict ships and during a salvage of a ship that dates back to before the sun imploding, you find something valuable that could determine who wins the war.”

“How absurd,” Damian mutters. “That story is utterly ridiculous. Whoever wrote it should be ashamed.”

“Who should be ashamed, Master Damian,” Alfred asks as he enters the kitchen.

“Whoever wrote the story for this absurd game you are apparently fond of,” his youngest son retorts.

“None of us thought you were into video games, Alfred,” Tim adds.

“I wouldn’t say that, Master Timothy, but I know its creator and I know he worked very hard to make the game you see before you. It makes me so happy that he finally achieved his goals and I want to do my part to support him. I hope he gets all the acclaim and recognition he rightfully deserves deserves.”

“Whoa, you know who he created Salvage Rights,” Tim asks, mesmerized. “Who?”

“It’s someone you all know: Master Y/N.”

Y/N? All of a sudden, he realizes a mistake he made earlier: Tim isn’t his third child, Y/N is. Wait, when was the last time he talked to his firstborn? Hell, when was the last time he talked to you? Wait, what do you even look like? How old are you?

This starts a cascade of realizations: he’s never celebrated your birthday. Or Christmas. Or even had a gala for you like all his children got to welcome them in his family.

“Y/N’s a video game developer,” Tim asks, breaking Bruce out of his thoughts. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, that’s because none of you have ever had a conversation with the poor lad,” Alfred retorts, his look of disapproval returning. “I never knew it was possible to not say a single word to someone you’ve lived with for years, but you showed me such a thing was possible.”

Bruce looks to his sons and upon seeing their expressions, he knows that none of them have talked to you, either. This definitely doesn’t bode well for them. Or you.

“Well, we should go talk to him,” Dick pipes up, trying to stay upbeat, but he’s obviously upset at this realization. He moves to leave the kitchen. “Is he in his room?”

“His room isn’t in the family wing,” Alfred responds, stopping Dick’s stride.

That’s when Bruce realizes that he’s never seen you coming or going from any of the bedrooms in their part of the manor. If your room isn’t with theirs, where do you sleep?

“His room is on the other side of the manor,” Alfred says, as if he read Bruce’s mind.

And with that, he leaves the kitchen and all four of them follow the butler, their steps heavy and slow from guilt. Bruce’s guilt only grows as they walk through corridor after corridor, eventually replace clean and pristine for dirty and decrepit. With a manor as large as Wayne Manor, cleaning is a battle, requiring an army to maintain it, but with Alfred being the only one, Bruce told the man to leave the uninhabited wings alone and only clean them when they have guests, which Bruce tries to keep to a minimum as someone in his position in Gotham’s high society can get away with.

Have you been staying in this forgotten part for the manor ever since you came to live here? With only dust and pests for company?

After he talks to you, he intends on moving you to the bedroom next to his; it’s been empty for years and has been going to waste. When you move into that room, he’ll check on you everyday, waking you up himself and walking you down to the dining room for breakfast every morning.

“Why is his room so far from ours, Pennyworth,” Damian asks.

“Well, when he first moved in, none of the rooms in the family wing weren’t fit to be slept in,” Alfred explains. “By the time I prepared a room for him, Master Timothy came to live with us and Master Y/N said he could have that room. Every time I finally got a room prepared for him, Master Bruce had a new addition to the family. By the time you joined the family, he insisted he remained where he was.”

That stopped all further questions, leaving them to process the new information in silence.

“Here we are,” Alfred announces when they reach a door on the far side of the manor.

Bruce decides that he needs to be the one to talk to you first, so he knocks on the door.

“Y/N,” he says after knocking once. “Can I come in?”

That’s when Alfred opens the door and before Bruce can say anything, he looks inside to see not only you not in there, but your room’s the size of a broom closet compared to the rooms all of them enjoy. One thing he notices is that the room’s surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the wing it resides in; based off the lingering smell of cleaning products, Alfred must’ve cleaned it recently.

“What a hovel,” Damian remarks as they enter, looking around.

“Indeed,” Alfred responds. “This is a guest room we specifically use for guests who are unwanted.”

Those words hit Bruce harder than Bane ever could. When Damian first moved in, he complained that the size was “insufficient” and he needed more room; so, he had a perfectly good bedroom be added on to his room, doubling its size to accommodate his pets, weapons, art supplies, and whatever else he keeps in there, instead of going to you and leaving you to rot in a guest room they use for people that aren’t wanted here.

He looks over at the bed to see the painfully small mattress is definitely past its prime, worn out from years of use. The bed frame isn’t a better, either based on the fact it looks like it’ll break at any moment. He presses a hand on the mattress and winces when he feels the large indention and hears the loud squeaking.

Good god, how did you even sleep on this thing for a day let alone for years? Not only does it look uncomfortable, but it’s barely big enough to hold a child, let alone… whatever you are.

“It’s pretty empty in here,” Tim remarks as he examines the dresser. “Guess there’s not a lot of room for decorations.”

“While there were very little decorations in here while he was living here, he took almost everything with him when he left, Master Dick. Very little was left behind. He told me I could destroy everything he left behind, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw away anything of his.”

Every second in here makes Bruce feel more horrible at how he’s treated his son. He needs to find you. Immediately.

“Where is he, Alfred,” Bruce asks, eager to find you and find some way to make amends.

“I’m afraid he doesn’t live in the manor anymore, Master Bruce. Master Y/N left us some time ago.”

Once again, Bruce feels like he’s been sucker punched in the gut, leaving him breathless. You moved out?

“When,” Dick asks, clearly upset.

“Four years ago. The night he graduated from Gotham Academy.”

“That’s when I graduated,” Tim realizes.

Bruce remembers that: four years ago on the night Tim was set to graduate, he and all of his children (well, all except you) were busy combing Gotham for Joker and Harley’s killer, listening in on countless criminals celebrating the Clown Prince of Crime’s demise.

Christ, he can remember that, but not his own son? He knew he wasn’t the best father in the world (despite the mug that says otherwise courtesy of Dick), but he had no idea he had failed one person so much. How much he failed his firstborn son.

“Wait,” Bruce spits out. “If he graduated and none of us were there, who was with him?”

Oh god, if Alfred says no one was with him, he actually cry in front of all of them. To know that his son had no one to celebrate his big night would drive him off the edge.

“I was, Master Bruce.” Hearing that makes him feel a bit better, but not enough to really do anything about the pit of guilt building in his stomach. The butler pulls out his phone and types on it before holding it up for them to see. “This is him walking with his classmates.”

He watches the video of you (fuck, you’re so much older than he remembers) wearing the traditional black and gold gown for all Gotham Academy graduates (he sees the usual black and gold cap has been decorated, but he can’t see from this angle), walking in line with your fellow classmates, all of them wearing caps and gowns.

That’s when he realizes that there’s no pictures of you anywhere in the manor. He instantly thinks of the last family portrait he had commissioned (around the time Damian moved in) hanging above the mantle in the living room, which has him sitting in an elegant white and gold trimmed cushioned chair in the center with a ten-year-old Damian on his right, Barbara in her wheelchair on his left, and behind him from left to right is Cass, Steph, Tim, Jason, Dick, and Alfred.

A family portrait that he treasures not including you. Right now, it feels like he can cry and throw up at the same time.

“Here’s him receiving his diploma,” Alfred says as he swipes right, displaying another video.

Sure enough, the video playing shows the headmaster calling your name (Gould, not Wayne), you walking to the man and receiving your diploma with your left hand and shaking the headmaster’s hand with your right, and walking back to your chair. Each new revelation about you makes the cavern of guilt he’s standing in even deeper; finding out that your last name isn’t his and must be your mother’s, telling the world that there’s no connection between you and him, even though half your DNA came from him.

“A staff member was taking pictures of the graduates as they shook hands with the headmaster and she was kind enough to send it to me,” Alfred says as he swipes again, revealing a picture of you and the headmaster.

He only needs a split second to commit your details to memory. H/c sticking out from your cap that he can tell you’ve decorated and e/c that must come from your mother. And that’s when he realizes that while the color is different, their shape matches his mother’s perfectly. And isn’t that just twisting the knife in his gut.

“And this picture was taken after the ceremony.”

That’s when he sees you as perfectly as he can, standing next to Alfred, who is at an event that he should’ve been at, not looking to arrest someone who killed the man who’s terrorized Gotham for two decades. Nothing happened that night, he should’ve taken the night off to see both of his sons graduate, cheering them on and hugging them after receiving their diplomas.

“Is he still in Gotham,” Damian asks, his voice even, but Bruce can tell his youngest son feels guilty, something he’s only expressed a handful of times during his stay here.

“No, Master Damian, I’m afraid Master Y/N went back home.”

“‘Home,’” Dick exclaims. “This is his home!”

On one hand, Bruce wants to agree with Dick, that the manor is the only place you should call “home,” but on the other hand, he knows that with the way they treated you, he would understand why you’d want to leave him. Leave all of them.

“I’m afraid he felt differently. He told me that he’d been looking forward to going back to the home he lived with his mother. Apparently, the lack of affection and attention from his so-called family made him plan to move back when he turned eighteen, but I was able to convince him to stay so he could graduate.”

It made sense. After being ignored for years, why would you stay when you could leave? Bruce knows this, but now, all he wants is for you to move back in so he can give you all the love you can handle. He wants to have inside jokes with you, to give you a shoulder to cry on when the world overwhelms you, to take you out on quality time with just you and him.

He wants to do all the things for you that he does for his other kids. Things that he should’ve been doing for you from day one. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts only to find that you’re not only in his house, but you’re not even in his phone. He hasn’t had a single conversation with you in person, why would he think he’s had a conversation with you over text?

“Where is he now,” Bruce asks, his voice hollow and empty even to him.

Right now, all he wants is to learn where you are and try to find some way to make his transgressions up to you.

“I was led to believe Batman is the ‘world’s greatest detective,’” Alfred retorts, an eyebrow raised. “Are you unable to find your son on your own?” Bruce looks at him, making the butler sigh. “He moved back to his home in Goodsprings, Nevada.”

He didn’t even know where you came from before coming to live here. If there was an Olympic event for shitty fathers, Bruce would take home the gold in a landslide right now.

“Of course, you may have a golden opportunity to see him tomorrow night.” Alfred pulls his phone towards him, types something on it, and shows it to them again.

On the screen is a website for something called the Gamer’s Gala, a massive event held yearly where gamers go to see what new video games are planned to be released in the future and where game developers have an opportunity to win the “Golden Joystick,” a trophy given based off their game’s success during the year.

He scrolls through the website to find all the games up for awards and sees Salvage Rights by Gould Games in top contention for Indie Game of the year! He’s so excited to see you’ve found success in your passion and wants to see you walk on stage and accept the award, cementing your place as one of the greatest developers in the world.

According to the website, it’s being held in Metropolis this year due it being hosted completely by Lex Corp and that gets his blood boiling. No doubt this is some attempt to win public favor after yet another failed attempt to kill Superman and he thinks by doing this, people will forget all about whatever illegal activities he was up to his neck in. Had he known this sooner, he would’ve pulled the right to host the event out from under Lex’s feet, sparing no expense to ensure it was the biggest ceremony in the event’s history.

And of course, he’d invite you to stay at the manor the entire time, a room prepared just for you. Right next to his.

“The event is tomorrow night. I believe Batman can take one night off so Bruce Wayne can attend.” Alfred pulls something out from his pocket and holds it up to Bruce. “Master Y/N was kind enough to send me a ticket so I could be there for the biggest night of his life.”

Bruce takes the ticket and looks at it closer. According to the glossy golden ticket, it’s awarding the recipient special seating at a section of the hall reserved only for the friends, families, and special guests of candidates and offering them access to the Developer Lounge, a section of the convention center that only game developers and their guests can enter, where they can eat and drink all they want for free, all of it paid for by Lex Luthor.

When he gets back to the office, he plans on making that man’s life hell. It was bad enough that he somehow came in four years ago and undercut WE with products that he knows for certain were based off his company’s but he has no idea how Luthor was able to get his hands on classified technical specs, costing him and his company several contracts and millions in revenue for that fiscal year, but now, he’s gone and made the biggest night of his son’s life even better, something that he should’ve done.

This ticket is not way of witnessing the greatest moment in your life, but to try to repair his relationship with you.

“Why don’t we all go,” Dick pipes up, looking very uncomfortable. “We should all be there with for him. You know, as a family!”

“I agree with Greyson,” Damian adds. “We should all be there.”

“I’ll get us tickets,” Tim says as he pulls out his phone and begins to type on it.

“I think Master Bruce should go alone,” Alfred says, making all of them look at the butler. “This is a very delicate situation and if the entire family goes, it could make things worse. For now, allow your father to speak to your brother by himself.

The pained looks on his boys’ faces makes him feel even worse than he already does. He knows that they want to make up for how they treated you just like him, but right now, he’s not even sure how you’ll react seeing him, let alone the entire family.

He’ll do whatever it takes to bring you home so they can show you the love you deserved back then. And then, they’ll all be one happy family.

“Thanks, Alfred,” he says as he carefully tucks the ticket into his coat, treating it like a precious artifact and not a flimsy piece of paper. “I have to get ready.”

As he leaves, he makes a note to give the butler a pay rise. Not just for giving him the ticket meant for him, but for helping him realize his mistake and for being there for his son.

As he heads to his room to pack a bag, he makes arrangements to stay at a penthouse as the hotel connected to the convention center so he can get there quickly and hopefully get to talk to you before the award ceremony. He also purchases your game in order to have something to talk to you about, hoping you’ll be touched by him supporting your career as a developer (he’ll also carefully analyze the game to high heaven in hopes of learning more about you) and starts drafting plans for Alfred to prepare your new room, allowing the butler to buy anything and everything he thinks you’d like, from furniture to decorations.

He briefly thinks about calling Clark and asking him to monitor the convention hall for any trouble from Lex, but quickly decides against it. Y/N is his son and he’ll protect him with his own hands, not relying on the Kryptonian. If Lex tries any shit during the ceremony, he’ll pull every underhanded trick in the book to buy out Lex Corp only to raze it to the ground and salt the earth where it once stood.

Whatever it takes, he’ll see you accept the trophy you so rightly deserve and after that, he’ll talk to you fact to face and beg you to forgive him, take you into his arms and apologize for not being the father you needed him to be. And after that, he’ll bring you back to the manor, where you’ll stay in a room next to his, where him and your siblings will keep you company from day in to day out. And when he brings you home, he’ll commission another family portrait that’s large enough to take up an entire wall and has you in the center with all of them surrounding you.

At last, they’ll be the family you deserve. The family you should’ve had when you became a part of their family.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @paolexsstuff @c0l1fl0r @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @starsdotalk @luna57765 @jsprien213 @lizz-lrm @chericia @lunaluz432 @orbitingtraveler @roseytheteacup @bellethesleepypotato @exactlynumberonekryptonite @fantasyhopperhea @bronanitf @ellaprime7 @justwannabecat @ratchetprime211 @bunbunbread

[bananayuyu]

Making a Mess

Pairing: Mingi x f reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Being on stage makes Mingi really, really horny. Luckily you're backstage to help him out.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, public sex, unprotected sex, bodily fluids making a mess on the floor...

A/n: Heard an audio on here today and well... my brain started working overtime. I need him to destroy me. My bestie challenged me to write something short finally 😭 hope you enjoy! <3

I wrote a part 2/expansion of this story called Cleaning Up which you can read here!

<^><^><^><^><^><^>

Being on stage always had an affect on Mingi, one visceral and tangible, obvious even to fans with a keen eye. The lights, the production, the sea of screaming people chanting his name, it all riled him up more than anything. Staring out at the massive arena, the music deafening loud as he rapped through ragged breaths, his nerves were on fire. Exiting the stage he ripped off his jacket, lumbering quickly towards the changing rooms on his way to find you.

You, his companion on tours. His close... friend? Not really. No one asked questions, least of all you two. But you knew why you were here, why he needed you patiently waiting with the rest of the staff, ready to help him at a moment's notice.

"Y/n," Mingi huffs as he busts through the door, his lungs heaving from the heat he's feeling, his makeup making his eyes look dark and demanding. A small smile sneaks onto your lips as you rise, following him out into the hall, a sprinkling of random people wandering past you at varying speeds. You've both been in this arena a few times before, and you know exactly where he's taking you. He's got about seven minutes before he needs to be back onstage again, so it can't be too far. Not that either of you are thinking about that right now. You duck down another small hallway and then his hands are on you, pushing you against the wall by your hips, his open mouth colliding with yours as you both sigh in anticipation, tongues roaming each other's mouths. You can hear a pair of shoes squeaking down the perpendicular hallway, a small golf cart running by somewhere in the distance. You're not really covered here but it doesn't matter. It only adds to everything.

Mingi pulls back with a nip to your lower lip, burying his face in your neck as he snakes his hands underneath your shirt, squeezing over your entire body while biting down, marking you just like he did a few days prior, where a small yellow bruise is still healing. A small yelp escapes your lips at the pain, your entire body buzzing with pleasure as he so aggressively plays with you, making your knees weak. Not wanting you to fall he moves to grab your waist, lifting you up the wall as you wrap your legs around his hips to anchor yourself. At this angle you can feel how hard he is, just like everyone saw moments ago on the big screen.

"Was it a good set?" you ask breathlessly, your faces only inches apart.

"Fuck yeah," he responds before kissing you again, a hand coming to rest behind your head as he pushes into your mouth even further, reveling in the feeling of your warm tongue on his. "Fuck I needed this," he groans, his other hand gripping your hip to help support you, his hips grinding into yours as he tastes your sweet lipgloss, your perfect eyes shut in pleasure as he digs his hand into your soft flesh. Soon he's unbuttoning his pants, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders as he holds you up with just his hips. He's unzipping hastily, desperately grabbing at his cock to free it, squeezing his shaft as he lines himself up with you. Your exercise shorts are just loose enough, with no underwear underneath of course, for him to push them to the side and reveal your soaking cunt, your body getting worked up long before he came and got you. Shakily he lines himself up with your entrance, his blood pumping through him so fast as he slowly pushes in, the stretch immaculate.

"Fuck, Mingi," you whisper, shocked every time by how big he is, how good it feels. Slowly he starts rocking his hips into yours, your wet pussy making lewd noises echo down the hallway. Moving his hands back to your hips Mingi lifts you just a bit higher, giving him the perfect angle to start fucking you hard, the wet noises replaced by the slapping of skin, over and over and over.

"How are you always so wet?" he groans in your ear, his mouth nipping at your lobe and making you whimper. Pulling back he watches your face from just inches away, loving the way your brows are scrunched up and your mouth hangs open as you try not to moan too loud. Your body bounces with the force of his thrusts, your hands still anchoring on his shoulders as he pounds into you even harder, his grip on your hips so strong it will surely leave bruises. Your pussy clenches down on him as he hits your cervix repeatedly, ripping little orgasms out of you over and over, your legs shaky as you hold onto his hips for dear life.

"God, you drive me fucking- fuck- crazy," he whispers in your ear, his cock throbbing from the feeling of your wet walls squeezing down on him. "You cum so fast on my cock," he groans, his head spinning as his climax quickly approaches. You've already fallen over the edge multiple times, your body shaking hard now as you just try to hang on, unable to respond to him as you keep yourself from screaming into the open hall. He's absolutely ravishing you, his movements sloppy as he chases his pleasure, your wetness dripping down onto his pants, the floor. Suddenly his orgasm washes over him, his hips stuttering before coming flush with yours, as he shoots deep inside you, his cum filling you with warmth. It's a lot, too much for your pussy to contain, and small amounts start dribbling out of you already, even with his cock still buried inside you.

"Fuck, what would I do without you," he sighs into your hair, kissing your forehead before moving to your lips. He moves his hands around your back, pulling you up towards him in an embrace as you breathe hard. Your arms rag doll down to your sides as you sigh, your head resting heavy on Mingi's shoulder, and he chuckles. "You good?" he whispers, and you nod your head in response. You nuzzle your face into his neck more, making him pause for just a moment, letting a bit of time pass with you both still entangled.

And then it's finally time for him to slowly pull you off of him, both of you watching as the rest of his cum drips out, down your legs and onto the floor, leaving a small puddle. There's a smirk on his face but your cheeks are bright red with embarrassment, even if this wasn't the first time that's happened. For a brief moment his chest tightens, knowing that you find it a bit mortifying letting him have you so publicly. It's all so hot and so shameful all at once, making you quiet and shy, and with your eyes on the ground your hand on his arm is the only sign that you're still wanting him next to you.

"Come on," he says, helping you start to move the rest of the way down this small hall that had a bathroom at the end of it. This really was the perfect arena for this, given the out-of-the-way private bathroom. You wish all of the arenas they toured had this set up. Your legs wobble as you make your way down, Mingi's hold the only thing from preventing you from falling. And then you're finally there by the door, about to swing it shut when he gently grabs your shoulder turning you around. His eyes are swimming with satisfaction as your face meets his, and he leans down to pull you into a kiss again, this time sweet and gentle.

"Mingi, get your ass back here!" you hear a voice scream from down the hall, the sound sharp from ricocheting off the brick walls. And just like that he's gone down the hallway, running on somewhat shaky legs of his own. But not before planting one final kiss on your nose, making your stomach light with butterflies, your core clenching from the sweetness.

[crimsntwlip]

“i said i love the smiths” | mattheo riddle x reader

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

warnings: kinda short, mentions of alcohol, readers status not mentioned, reader is a slytherin, soft fluff?

summary: slytherin is throwing a house party, to which you desperately want to stay in your room but get dragged downstairs by your friends. you end up on the couch, next to mattheo, who was also stuck in the same situation . 🐾

a/n: this imagine is inspired by the my fav 500 days of summer scene 😭😭!!! if you have no clue what im talking about you can watch it here! pretty cute scene :> but enough of that!!!!

masterlist | posted: 11/15/23 | part 2

you looked at yourself in the mirror, staring out the outfit you wore for the party you swore you wouldn’t go. that was until your 2 closest friends, elenoise and augusta, begged for you to join them. i mean fully begged, down on their knees begged, to the point where you just finally agreed to end this madness.

you could see the both of them through the mirrors as they wore a smug expressions behind you as they sat on your bed. you groaned, having second thoughts, “do i really have to go?” you sighed. to be fair, your friends knew you weren’t really a social butterfly, i mean you’d rather just stay in bed with headphones in blasting music while reading.

but of course, your friends thought you needed to go out and experience more stuff while you were in hogwarts. which brought them here, dragging you with them to some stupid party.

“yes!” they exclaimed in sync, “we’re doing this for you, trust, you will be thanking us later,” elenoise grinned as augusta nodded next to her. you only huffed, feeling defeated.

as you three begin to make your way downstairs, the smell of alcohol hits your nostrils as the loud music blasts. you make your way through the crowd, and you already regret coming. you look back, expecting to see your two friends following behind, only to find them gone, lost somewhere in the crowd. you sighed, rubbing your sweaty palms against the fabric of your pants anxiously.

you made your way through the overcrowded space as you spot an empty space on a couch that was in the corner of the common room, making you sigh in relief. you sat down, your nerves finally calming down as you observed everyone. It was only then that you heard the faded music of your favorite band, the smiths, lingering next to you. causing you to glance over your shoulder, revealing mattheo riddle, looking bored out of his mind as music blasted through his headphones.

you only glanced at him before you hesitantly start trying to make convo. you weren't friends with him, but you knew of him, i mean who didn't know him?

you gave him a small smile as you saw that he had finally noticed your quiet presence. you took this opportunity, "the smiths?" you start off, your index finger pointing up towards his headphones. but with his music still blasting in his ears, he doesn't hear you. he glances at you and gives you a small "hi" before he turns his gaze back away.

but you continue to try again anyways. you lean in slightly closer, paying close attention to confirm that it was the smiths. "i love the smiths," you say with a serene smile as mattheo turned his attention towards you. "sorry?" he asked, pulling his headphones down to his neck to hear you clearer.

"i said i love the smiths" you state once again, causing mattheo stare at you in awe making your smile slightly grow. again, you hesitantly speak once again, "you've- you've got good taste in music," you complimented. "you like the smiths?" mattheo asks nearly cutting you off, you grow shy and nod muttering a small "yeah" before you sang along to the music that was still blasting around the star-struck boy's neck.

"to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die- i love em." you grinned, glancing around the room once again. mattheo kept his gaze on you, but before he could say anything else, your friends came along. "(y/n)!" one of them exclaimed, "we were looking for you everywhere!" they said, taking your hand and dragging you with them, leaving the boy alone once again. you glanced back to see mattheo still staring at you in awe, making you giggle and turn back towards you friends.

"holy shit," a smitten mattheo mumbled as he watched you disappear in the crowd.

a/n: lmk if you guys want a part 2 or if i should make this into a series!! i enjoyed writing this 🤭 <33

[cherryobx]

turn the radio up - I have so many songs I want to share with you sjsj. but they all seem difficult to write with bc ofc my music taste is basically really emotional songs jsjs. but a classic that i’ll always love is iris by the goo goo dolls !! maybe that could be a cute one with like comfort or something? but idk, you’re the writer hihi. so do with it whatever you want <3

Iris

summary: you go looking for JJ after a big fight with his dad and it ends with a confession of feelings

a/n: it was supposed to be based on that song but i got kinda carried away so this will have to do lol, also, i was too lazy to proofread so let me know if you spot any mistakes

wc: 1.8k

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of JJ's dad (deserves a warning), happy ending tho

“Have you guys seen JJ?” You barge into the chateau where all of your friends are currently watching a movie on John B’s old and kind of broken TV. Well, everyone except one.

“Weren’t you two supposed to go ‘midnight surfing’ together?” Kiara asks from her spot on the floor. Even if she would’ve fit on the couch, she preferred to sit on the floor as she found it more comfortable.

“We were but he never showed up.” Your voice is full of worry. He never just stands you up like this. He’s late all the time but he always shows up eventually. He’d never do this to you intentionally which is why you’re so worried in the first place.

“He probably just fell asleep,” John B butts in, eyes glued to the TV screen in the corner of the room.

“Yeah, go check his place, see if he’s home,” Kie suggests. “Do you want me to come with you?”

You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. Stay and enjoy your movie. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

You rush out of there as fast as you arrived, grabbing your bicycle and biking towards JJ’s house. 

JJ doesn’t live very far away so you’re there in a couple of minutes. In fact you can reach everywhere in Kildare in a very short amount of time. It’s a small place. 

Leaving your bike in the driveway, you creep up to the window of his bedroom. You didn’t want to take the risk of knocking on the door and running into JJ’s dad. It’s a small risk since he’s away most of the time but it’s a risk you’re not willing to take.

The light in his room is not on but the light from the moon reveals enough, he’s not there. If JJ’s not in his room he’s not home. It’s as simple as that. 

Your worry increases. If he’s not at the chateau and if he’s not at home, where the hell is he? 

You walk back to where you left your bike and start walking away from there, pushing the bike beside you. You need a second to think. Where could he be?Why didn’t he call? Did something happen? With his dad maybe? It’s very possible. JJ’s dad is not known for his kind heart and sweet words. You suspect that might be the cause because nothing else could make JJ miss hanging out with you. Especially without saying anything.

Where would you go if you were JJ?

You walk and ponder for a while. There are not very many places JJ would go in a time like this. Usually he goes to the chateau or your place because they’re more his home than his actual home ever was.

Then it dawns on you. There’s this place that JJ showed you a couple of months ago. He made you swear not to tell anyone. Even made you pinky swear. He said it’s his secret spot, somewhere he goes when he needs a moment alone and space to think. 

It’s a really beautiful place and it became your favourite spot too. It’s not far from the chateau but it’s hidden enough to be private. There’s a big oak tree near a small creek. When it’s sunny, the sun shines through the leaves and makes the water sparkle and it’s magical. Beautiful, really.

You’re sure that’s where he must be. 

Hopping onto your bike you ride there in a record time. You leave your bike at the side of the road and push through the bushes and trees to reach this secret spot of JJ’s. Well, yours too now.

And there he is. JJ’s sitting on the ground, on the green soft moss, his back leaning against the oak tree. His knees are pulled up to his chest and his hands are resting on them. Even if he hears you approaching, he doesn’t turn his head to look. He just keeps looking ahead.

It’s even more magical in the middle of the night than it is during the day.

You sit down beside him carefully so as not to startle him. “Hey,” you say softly.

His face is covered in various cuts and bruises.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is raspy and devoid of all emotion. He still won’t look at you.

“I came looking for you. You didn’t show at the beach. I was worried.”

“You shouldn’t have.” He throws a rock into the creek and the splash of water sounds so loud in the quiet of the night. 

“What? Why?”

He stays quiet. His lips are pulled between his teeth as if to specifically stop himself from speaking.

“JJ, talk to me.” You place your hand on his.

“Got into it with my dad again. It’s nothing. Just go.” He shrugs your hand off, physically pulling away from you. It hurts because JJ never denies physical touch from you. In fact, he craves it. He initiates it most of the time. His hands are always on you no matter what. It’s one of the things you love about him so much. Among many other things.

“You shouldn’t be alone here.”

“I don’t want you here right now,” he bursts out, finally looking at you. His eyes are red and so full of hurt.

You're taken aback by his words, mouth agape at his outburst. “What?”

“You heard me. I don’t want you here. So just go home. I don’t care.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Even though his words hurt, you stand your ground and don’t back down. He needs you there. At least, you’d need him in a situation like this, you think.

“Then I’m going.�� He stands up and starts to leave. 

You shoot up from the ground and grab his hand to stop him.

“Let go of me.” He stops and stares at your hand gripping his wrist. It must be painful with the way you're digging your nails into his skin but you don’t let go.

“No.”

“Y/N…” he warns, his tone low and angry.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Let the fuck go of me.” He’s actually angry now but doesn’t make a move. You know he doesn’t actually want to go.

You’re desperate now. “Why won’t you talk to me? I’m right here JJ.”

“I want to be alone right now.”

“Do you really?”

“Yes.” 

“You’re a fucking liar.”

He seems genuinely taken aback by that. “Excuse me?”

“You fight with your dad all the time. And I get it, it’s hard and I’m sorry. But you never pull away from me like that. Never. I know you like the back of my hand, JJ. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“It’s none of your fucking business,” he snarls.

“Your problems are my problems, right? Isn’t that what you said to me when I was sick last month and you wouldn’t leave my side? What happened to that, huh?”

There’s a beat of silence where the only things heard are the running water, rustling of leaves and your angry breathing.

He sighs and you feel him relax in your grip but you still won’t let go, scared that he’ll flee as soon as you do. 

“We fought.”

“I know.”

“About you.”

Now you’re genuinely aghast. “What?” You blink in confusion, your grip on his hand loosening.

“He said some stuff I can never say to you and I couldn’t see you after that. I couldn’t bear the thought of facing you after the things he said.”

“What did he say?”

“I won’t tell you.”

“Tell me.”

“No. And don’t fucking argue because I will take those words to grave with me. I’ll make sure of that.”

You nod. Maybe it’s for the best.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Am I okay?” he chuckles dryly. “Never been better. I feel like a fucking loser, a failure with an asshole for a dad. And I’m so fucking alone that it physically hurts in here.” He places his hand right over his heart. 

“You’re none of those things, JJ. Not to anyone, not to me.”

“Who’s the fucking liar now?”

“I’m not fucking lying, JJ!” You force him to look into your eyes. “Your dad might be an asshole, a big one at that, but you’re not a failure or a loser. I don’t know how but didn’t turn out like him. You have a future. He threw it away. And you’re not alone. You have us,” you refer to your friends. “And you have me.”

You place your other hand on his hand that’s still on his chest. “You’ll always have me.”

“Not in the way I want. Not in the way I need.”

You furrow your brows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You know, I’ve never taken anyone here before.” He looks around his secret little getaway. “You’re the first person I’ve shown it to. The only one I thought it was worth showing to.”

Your eyes remain on his face as he talks, taking in his features. 

“I’ve never wanted to take anyone here before. I didn't understand why I wanted to show you this place so badly. Why it mattered to me if you liked it or not? And then I realized I’m in love with you and I’m absolutely fucked.”

I blink slowly, mouth agape, as I try to process his words. “You’re in love with me?”

“Yeah. And I know it’s stupid and I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Because it fucking ruins everything. You’re never gonna wanna speak to me again and things are gonna be so awkward and-”

I interrupt his rambling. “Have you even asked me what I feel?”

“What?”

“You go on this tangent about how your feelings for me are horrible but you don’t even know how I feel. So ask me. Ask me what I feel for you, JJ.”

“What do you feel for me?”

“I feel like I want to hit you, JJ. I’ve been in love with you for like… ever and you didn’t even seem to notice. I’ve made it very clear. Hell, everyone else except you knows that I’m head over heels for your stupid ass.”

“Are you serious?” he asks.

“Of course I’m fucking serious, JJ. You think I’d tell you this for shits and giggles?”

“You-” he wants to say something but seems to think twice and before you know it his lips are on yours. His hands are on the sides of your face, pulling you close. You melt against his body, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“That was for shits and giggles.” He pulls away, completely out of breath.

“Totally,” you say and pull him back against your lips for another kiss.

“But I mean it, JJ,” you state when you finally separate again.

“What?” 

“I’ll always be here for you. Through the bad and through the good. Always. I promise.”

“So do I.”

“You better,” you jokingly threaten and he laughs at that. 

“Do you wanna go to the chateau? The others are watching a movie right now.”

He denies your offer. “No, I’d rather stay here with you for now. If that’s okay?”

“It can be arranged.” You smile up at him and his face lights up.

“Good.”

join my picnic!

[ladyloveandjustice]

Yuri Manga for New (AND Not-So-New) Readers

I was talking on discord about some good yuri for beginners, and figured I'd repost here.

I get way more detailed some of these recommendations in this post, and there's great recs from another person too! Check it out!

I'm doing this accounting to various tones and tastes, so what works as a beginner yuri for one person might not for another, just read the info to figure out what your jam is.

I'll put a star by the ones about adults (which is the majority of them) since I've found that's always something people want.

Goodbye my Rose Garden (Victorian yuri w/ beautiful art, just beautiful all around)*

How Do We Relationship? (messy adult relationships and lots of actually realistic intimacy)*

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat- (A woman loves to cook but doesn’t have a huge appetite, only to find the woman next door to her does! She cooks for her and they really start to bond over food and the trials of being working adults. Yes, this is the one where the woman googles lesbian. It's really good)*

Bloom into You- a common go-to yuri for beginners for a reason, about a girl who believes she can't fall in love meeting a girl who wants to date her specifically BECAUSE she can't fall in love. Find out more about it and hear my thoughts here. It has a gorgeous anime that doesn't cover the complete story.

Doughnuts Under the Crescent Moon (sweet office lady romance, ace rep) *

Catch These Hands! (These two women were delinquents and rivals in high school, they meet up again, one reveals she was always into the other, she challenges her to a fight on the condition that if the other woman loses she'll date her. Lots of slapsticky fun and great for any lover of girl delinquents)*

Run away with me, Girl (there's some abuse shown in this one, but it's a story about healing, the premise is these girls dated in high school, but one of the pressured herself "normal" and marry a man, that man turns out to be abusive, so when the former lovers reunite, they decide to run away together. It's got beautiful art and a well done story)*

The Moon on a Rainy Night (absolutely spectacular, explores the relationship between a hard of hearing girl and her closeted classmate, the characters are complex and the writing is so good!)

Kase-san And...- Starting with Kase-san and the Morning Glories, this is a very fluffy and sweet high school romance. It also has a short movie. (as the manga goes on they become college students, too)

The Two of Them Are Pretty Much Like This (slice of life about a voice actress and anime screenwriter who live together as a couple. Unfortunately the ending is a bit abrupt (and likely premature) but I love their relationship)*

My fave Otherside Picnic is great for scifi and (mild) horror lovers. It's Scifi creepypasta adventure yuri. It's a slow burn but does truly spectacularly deliver on the gay. Has an anime, it's not great, you should start with the novels. Wrote an article here. https://www.animefeminist.com/how-otherside-picnic-masterfully-uses-horror-to-explore-abuse-and-show-healing-queer-love/ *(v young adults, college students)

The Guy She was Interested in Wasn't a Guy at All: (A web manga about a girl who works at a record shop. Her classmate , Aya, wanders in but doesn't recognize her because she has her hair hidden with a hat and is wearing a face mask, and Aya assumes she's a guy. They bond over music and slowly start to get closer...and Aya's finds her heart is fluttering not only over this mysterious boy, but her female classmate that seems a lot like him...) It's going to get a physical release soon.

I Married my Best Friend to Shut My Parents Up (girl and her friend get married simply so her parents will stop bugging her about being single. You can probably guess where it goes from there) *

I Married my Female Friend (similar premise, except no parents involved, it's a platonic marriage they both agreed to with the promise they'll divorce if one of them falls in love. But one woman has decidedly not platonic feeling for the other that she's hiding from her, so It will likely turn romantic, it hasn't all come out here yet so I haven't finished it)*

Monthly in the Garden with my Landlord* (it didn't really hit with me but I might give it a shot again, it's solid despite the terrible title, a woman moves into a house and finds she'll be cohabitating with an idol) (Some more titles I haven't fully read that could appeal: After Hours*, Still Sick*, Cheerful Amnesia*)

My Cute Little Kitten (two roommates adopt a cat...and maybe fall in love?)*

I think all of those work as solid intro- though it does depend on what flavor you're looking for!

This article also covers some of these recs and some manga I didn't mention due to not having completely read it. so check it out: The Beginners Guide to Yuri Manga.

Here's some titles to try when you're a little more familiar with yuri (or you can try them now! I'm not your boss!)

SHWD (action yuri that's taking forever to come out over here physically, featuring extremely muscular women fighting monsters. I think it was forced to end prematurely too)*

Kiss and White Lily for my Dearest Girl: (I'm only three volumes in, but it's really enjoyable. The main storyline is about two academic rivals, where one is determined to rank first in class, and the other is an effortless genius who becomes intrigued at the possibility of someone beating her. Honestly they have the kind of messy combative sexual tension I wish we'd see more often in yuri because it's so good. The story follows other couples too. However, big warning for some nonconsensual kisses in the first volume at least).

Sweet Blue Flowers/Aoi Hana- (This one is a little bit dated, and boy is the ending weirdly paced, but a lot still holds up imo. A painful and sweet coming of age tale, it also has an anime that's good but ends too soon.

One teenage characters backstory involves incestuous (older cousin) the perpetrator of which pulls the "oh no did I turn you gay? thing" but it's definitely framed as a bad thing. )

Yuri is My Job- a story about messy lesbians in a yuri-themed cafe, and how their real relationships differ from the personas they put on. Read more about it here. Big warning for sexual assault of a minor (by an adult villain) in volume 12. Has an anime covering early material.